


Once Upon A Time In Mexico

by Fantasticly_Anonymous



Category: Lucha Underground
Genre: A Little Hunting/Mentions Of Hunting, Backstory, Dragon Den, Dragon Style Dining, Dragon's Eat Animals, Enemies to Friends - Sort Of, Español | Spanish, Family Feels, Family Fluff, First Impressions, First Meetings, Flying, Friends To..., Gen, M/M, Mention Of The Passing Of Loved Ones, Non-Graphic Violence, Prey - Freeform, Some Humor, Somewhat Graphic Depictions Of Injury And Sickness, Space Vessel, Space and Cosmos Stuff, dragon stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticly_Anonymous/pseuds/Fantasticly_Anonymous
Summary: Ever wonder whether Dario Cueto was on to something when he said, in front of a packed crowd of Faithful and rolling television cameras, "Drago, Aerostar: It's obvious you two love each other very much."?You're in luck either way! Because Idid. Heh heh.I invite you to enjoy yourself and take a ride back in time: To the age of the last Dragon. Witness the first meetings of the Man From The Cosmos and the Man With A Dragon Soul, in a time before either of them had ever heard the term 'Lucha Libre'!Rated T for some blood, maybe a spot of crude or strong language, and a little life threatening violence. ;D





	1. Aero Star's Rough Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One hundred decades before the present day:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's take a peak at the first time Aero Star ever made the acquaintance of a certain Dragon, shall we?

Cien decadas antes la día presente:

 

Aero Star always loved it when patrol took him to this part of the planet. A beautiful place where highlands comprised of treacherous mesas and sharp mountain peaks met the peaceful lowlands of valleys and plains. Plains which in some places, seemed to stretch on for... well, 'bout as far as the eye could see.  
Mexico. But what was this province called? They were always changing the names of these places, so it took a little to keep them straight in his mind.

He tried to put the effort in though, as this _was_ the place where he'd been born. Where he'd learned how to speak and walk and eventually; how to fly.  
As he was doing right then. Soaring with a lazy attention cast over the flat expanse below and ahead of him. Keeping a low, shale covered mountain range to his left, and open space for miles to his right.

Yep. Being a Star Child had its perks. Such as the power of flight being attainable, naturally.  
Sure it'd taken practice to get the hang of, and sure he'd burned a few things along the way to proficiency, but he could fly with the best of them. He would know: He had.

He glanced to the dark grey mountain wall, thinking maybe he'd seen movement from the loose rocks which made up a majority of its surface.  
Seeing nothing, he pointed his eyes front once more and gave himself a shrug, thinking that if anything, a lizard who matched the color of all those millions of sharp rocks could have been sunbathing.  
He had pretty good eyes. He could've caught that.

Lizards were cool. Like little solar powered batteries, they soaked up energy and power from sun light, and went dormant when the sun wouldn't come out to play. Or when it was too cold out.  
Just like a solar battery.

Amusing himself with thoughts of different lizards being used in place of battery packs aboard space vessels, Aero Star kept his course straight and his laughter _inside_.

He thought he could feel the cooling effects of a shadow creeping over him, but he'd checked the sky only a minute earlier and there had been no clouds. So- No, that was definitely a shad-Woah!

What felt like a _huge_ fist, or perhaps a shoulder, slammed Aero Star with incredible force, right to one side of his spine. The sheer power of the blow scared all the air out of his lungs and sent him into a corkscrew he found himself unable to stabilize.  
It felt like a giant bird of prey had dive bombed him, as if he was some sort of lesser bird it wanted to make a meal out of. But how had it gotten the drop on him? And what kind of bird was as huge as whatever'd spun him like a top and nearly snapped a few of his ribs in the process?

Still unable to _breathe_ , the Space man who'd thought he was out on your standard low flying patrol where nothing bad happens and you're basically just sight seeing the whole day, managed to slow the tornado like spin, then oriented himself _just_ enough to take in a fast zoom in of a cliff side, coming in at... breakneck speed.

Aero Star reacted out of instinct, barely able to tell which way was up, and twisted his body in the most 'away' direction he could muster. Which just so happened to be straight toward the ground.  
At least he wasn't going to smack headfirst into a mountain wall. That would no doubt have ended his career. _This_ on the other hand, was just going to leave a mark.

The incredibly sharp bank he'd pulled off helped Aero Star to get the last of the spinning under control, but with the lumpy ground near the base of the mountain so close, he was definitely going to-  
Crash.

It really wasn't all that spectacular. He took the brunt of it on a shoulder and did his best to roll the remaining momentum out of it. Still left a neat skid mark through the hard packed dirt and sparse leaves of grass for a dozen or so feet. Maybe two dozen.  
At least he'd been present enough to employ some of his flight training and damped his speed as soon as obstacles had started presenting themselves.

"Ow." First thing out of his mouth, soon as he regained the power of breath. Followed by a quiet, "Madre de Díos."  
What kind of earth creature could out maneuver Aero Star? Wait! **Where _was_** the thing now!?

A swooping sound caught the crumpled patroller's frazzled attention and he couldn't help the reflexive move of covering his head. Knowing full well that it probably wouldn't do any good against something as fierce and powerful as-

A clicking growl cut off his thoughts in a, ‘What? I'm still alive?’ fashion. His eyes opened, his arms relaxed some, and as soon as the world slowed its mad spinning, he sat up in the loose suciedad Méxicana and sought out the cause of all this confusion.

The growl had come from the mountain side, right down near where it became flat-ish, tan colored land. Aero Star raked the scene with his probably _still_ pretty good eyes and came up with nothing. All he could see was a sea of slate toned rocks and the occasional jut of a boulder sticking up and away from the relatively shaded foot of the- Was that movement?!

A pile of rocks perched atop a jutting boulder cocked its head, alerting Aero Star to the reality that he was either _seeing_ things now, or else rocks had grown sentience since his last visit.

Oh, wait- No. Haha! The crashed Space man nearly giggled as he rubbed at his visor, attempting to clear it of the dirt and pebbles that had jammed themselves in the slatted view screen.  
That wasn't a pile of rocks! That was his attacker! His attacker that was now taking its sweet time crawling down the _front_ of the pretty jagged looking boulder, never letting him out of its sight, and pulling itself to its full height right on the line that divided mountain shale from lowland dirt.

Aero Star had been bombed out of the sky by a... Dragon...

He was going to need help figuring out whether he was the luckiest man on earth, or one of the most severely f-

The extremely confused patroller flinched clear to his feet when the Dragon took a large, Lizard-tine step towards him. Probably a bad move on Aero's part, considering that he was facing a mythical creature who most likely intended to eat him as a midday snack.

Yep. In response to his sudden movement, the Dragon launched itself out of the illusion of cover afforded by the mountain base's meager shade and forward into the glory of full sunlight, splaying it's great wings so that it came to rest on a mound within deadly range of the only other living creature around.  
That was when Aero Star, perhaps some rattled by... his ongoing near death experience, finally realized that: Nope, the mountain base was not _that_ far away and therefore, neither had the Dragon been.

 _This_ Dragon was just plain... _**adorable**_!  
He couldn't help the giggle this time. It was all just too much- _far_ , far too much for the fallen flyer to take.  
**Seriously**?! _This_ had nearly killed him? **This** was the thing that'd bombed him out of the sky and made him eat dirt?!  
But... it was so... tiny.

He'd seen Dragons, a _long_ time ago, and they were awesome and terrible and altogether instilled the kind of fear a person felt in their gut for years to come. Nothing- well, _almost_ nothing like the Dragon he found in front of him. Who instilled awe just fine, but fear?  
Naw. The scaled creature was gonna have to do better than flick it's little black tongue out at him to impress Aero St-

The not even that big for a _human_ sized beast let out, without any warning, what had to be one of the cutest things Aero Star had ever heard: A full blown Dragon roar. But squeezed through a throat approximately the size of his own and with only a human sized mouth for an echo chamber, it just didn't have near the impact of the genuine article.

First time Aero Star had witnessed a great, winged beast's roar, he hadn't heard right for two days. After that, he'd wised up and covered his ears when it looked like one of those behemoths was gonna try to intimidate with a full blown roar. Kinda like it looked the tiny, lone scaly thing was attempting right then.  
It's adorable little, fifteen foot wings spread wide as they'd go, taught and shaking so they made an inhuman rattling sound which -coming from _this_ particular specimen- sounded like the thrum of a dozen Pygmy horses' stampeding.

The same from a full bodied Dragon was like the thunder of a frightened herd of buffalo, fat on good grazing and running for their lives from a swooping... Dragon. Heheh.

And those eyes! Sure, there was the equivalent of a flaming sun of pure animalistic intent shining out from each, but they were so small! He just couldn't bring himself to be intimidated, even though he was pretty sure the thing was still planning on eating him.

Now that he wasn't as distracted by the wings and... everything, Aero Star realized something he nearly kicked himself for not having had earlier: This Dragon had the body of a **human**. Or, well- _close_ to it, anyway.

Two _arms_ , ending in great claws and spotted in grey scales sure, but human shaped with biceps and an elbow each.

Two legs! There it was. Decided. This thing was part... humanoid, part Dragon, and _all_ together too cute for Aero Star to lift an offense against.  
His Space suit came equipped with some basic self defense measures; things like an electric shock, a magnetic field pulse, and... he was pretty sure there was some mace hidden up one of the sleeves.  
Eh. Who needed that kind of stuff when you had a Dragon to be friends with?

Oops. He'd been over preoccupied and missed the creeping advance of his attacker slash stalker. Maybe the little cutie wanted to roar at him from closer up? Try and scare him?

What the _Dragon_ ended up doing, Aero Star sure hadn't seen coming. In fact, he hadn't been able to see for a while _after_ either.

What with that mouth full of acid he got spit all up in his visor.

"¡Aaahh!" He proclaimed, half stumbling half falling first to one knee, then onto his rump. Right back where he'd crash landed, all because he'd thought a _predator_ looked 'cute' and 'friendly'. Maybe he'd learned his lesson now!  
"¡Sé quema! ¿¡Por qué se quema?!"

In answer, he received a lights out style smack across the head from what felt like a _tail_ , which laid him out flat and made his entire body feel a bit... disconnected from his consciousness.  
**Really** weird. At least the burning sensation felt disconnected along with it. He could barely perceive the irritation the acid was causing his chest either, which he was strangely grateful for, as opposed to frightened about.

Something clamped down around one of his ankles and Aero Star felt, almost as if in a dream, himself bodily jerked clean into the air... and not slammed back down. Hm. Maybe the Dragon _wasn't_ trying to break his spine?

Dios mío, how could this minuscule Dragon create enough lift to sustain flight laden with a 'kill' as big as Aero Star?! Because that was unmistakably what was going on!  
The upward pull of a downbeat, the weightlessness of an upbeat, the blood rushing to his head; he was being flown somewhere. By one ankle. He was gonna feel that in the morning. If he ever felt anything again, of course.

But what a privilege! What an honor! To experience first hand the hunting methods employed by such an ancient, long extinct -he really wasn't sure whether the pint sized cutey should count as a full blown Dragon, so 'extinct' it was- species of apex predators _and_ to get a sense of what winged flight was like?  
Absolutely priceless.

He wasn't looking forward to the whole 'being eaten' thing, but he also wasn't in much of a position to do diddly about it. Stunned, unable to _see_ and dangling from a powerful, clawed grip; he was pretty sure he was at least going to be taken to some sort of Dragon house. Maybe served up to a whole Dragon family for- But wait! Dragons were **extinct**!

And it was in that moment, a thought far sadder than any he'd yet had concerning the little charmer hit him, right in the rattled brain pan.  
What if, like any of his full sized counterparts, this 'Dragon' was blessed with a sturdy constitution and the lifespan of a Titan?  
If that were the case, then the pobrecito may have, depending on who or what might have hatched, birthed, raised or suckled him, never have known his guardian or guardians.

Aero Star had had a time of that himself. Having grown up with his Earth Padre and Earthling family until his body was fit for space travel.  
For his Cosmic Madre, it had been similar to leaving him there for a summer, kind of a long time to be away from your kid but completely bearable if you know they're in good hands. While for his wonderful, understanding, fully human family, it had been most of their lives.  
_Well_ over twenty years and he'd barely been tall enough to reach the tortillas on the clay oven his abuelita had built for la familia.  
By the time his space Mamá had come to pick him up from 'daycare', Aero Star had grown to the equivalent size of your average six year old, and had grown accustomed to the reality of loss.

All four of the familial grandparents had passed on at least a dozen years beforehand, and by the time his Cosmic Mamá's little space vehicle had parted the clouds and left an imprint in the hillside near the only home he'd ever known for the last time, his happily single younger sister, Rosita, was raising him as her own. Their Earth parents having reached the age at which most decided they were officially too old to carry the clay pot in from the well and that that was a job for grandchildren anyway.

Aero Star had been introduced to his Cosmic Mamita several times through his long, long, young life. Mostly he remembered how excited -read: terrified- the rest of the valley folks had been for the next few months after any given visit. Not so used to the idea of 'visitors' as his own casa seemed to be.

His Space Mamá was always so surprised to see how he'd grown, "¡En tan poco tiempo!" She'd coo, bending her six foot plus, space worthy frame until she was barely bigger than him and carding gentle fingers through his curly, slow growing locks.

She'd say she could only stay a short time, busy with all kinds of 'Cosmos' business, but her definition of 'short' was very different from his Earth family's.  
Usually she -and occasionally a friend or family member of hers- would live out of the little space vessel near her Earth bebé's house for a solid month before the fire would burn brightly out the sides and bottom and they'd be nothing but a twinkle in the sky until their next visit.  
Around five years from then. Even though Espacia Mamá said she'd be back in the blink of an eye.

Five years never felt like a blink to someone as young as Aero Star persisted in being. Especially when every year his family grew taller, and older, and more precious to him. The occasional member going to join his Space family in heaven or moving away to make or join a family of their own.  
He kinda liked the happy of the going away parties. Lots of dancing and the whole valley would come to wish them a happy life. Some going so far as to bless them with, "Gran fertilidad!"

"Lo que sea que eso signifique," his younger self had always mumbled, just pleased to be part of las fiestas.

He was even lucky enough to meet the new additions to his growing family, and loved snuggling the little babies while his grown up younger siblings visited with his Earth parents by the fire. Sipping their 'Bebidas para adultos' and _still_ not letting him take so much as a drop with his little finger, even when he reasoned with them that he was older than Rosita and Rosita had been allowed to for _years_!  
They reasoned back that Rosita had helped others bring babies into the world and that she had earned her cup.  
Then they'd all broken out in laughter loud enough to wake up his tiny sobrino when he proclaimed that he would show her up and bring his _own_ baby into the world!  
He didn't think it was very funny, but they did let him sniff a cup afterward.

Aero Star hadn't reached an age deemed appropriate until after he'd graduated Space Cadette High School and came back to his childhood home to celebrate.  
He'd been sure to request special leave in the middle of the ridiculously long Space semesters to travel to Earth to visit his Mamá-Hermanita Rosita, who grew more dear to him by the year. And he made _sure_ to visit at least once every year, usually for her Cumpleaño.

Still happily unmarried, she'd lived at home and taken care of their parents through their twilight years and made sure their send off had been a pleasant one.  
By that time, Aero Star had learned that Heaven and 'the heavens' weren't necessarily the same thing. At their passing party, he wept with new understanding and a heaviness in his heart at the knowledge that his beautiful Mamá-Hermanita would be joining them before he finished Space Cadette College.

He had to admit though, that the grey joining her dark hair strand by strand was a sight to behold. It made her appearance match her soul all the better. She'd always been the one he'd come to when he needed advise. Any kind of advise. Or a friendly ear. Or shoulder. She'd been his rock.

So sharing 'una bebida para adultos' with her had brought a tear of pride to his eye. She'd smiled in acknowledgement and added one of her own. Fond memories of when she and her other siblings had done the same together coming back to the both of them.

When Gran Abuelita-Tía Rosita -as _many_ knew her- passed, her procession was grand and the mourners innumerable.  
That's how it felt to Aero Star anyway, who'd just happened to visit in time to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' one last time and been able to radio the Dean of Space Cadette College for permission to stay for the funeral.  
It'd been granted. Plus an entire Earth month for him to take for familial mourning leave.  
That his classmates ribbed him for having the most approved days off out of any single Cadette in their 'year' bothered him infinitely less after that visit.

After Abuelita-Hermanita Rosita's passing, he had far less calling on his heart back on his little familia finca.  
Sure, there were plenty gran primxs and gran sobrinixs who loved to entertain a space relation, but every face he'd grown up with and visited through his childhood had joined his growing pantheon of Heavenly relations.

Though he was absolutely bloated with recuerdos preciosos, and loved sharing stories of his extended family's generaciones previos: fewer and fewer people recognized the names of those specific forebears, and less and less could he pick out their likenesses in the many faces that were continually like to strangers.

 

Yeah. It'd been tough growing up with that kind of timeshare. He'd had to get used to the length of 'years' out in space too. Very different to those short solar cycles he'd known so long on Earth, but it helped him understand how it was that his Space Mamá always thought she'd barely been gone at all when her next visit rolled around.

Pleiades -Aero Star's Space Mamita- had sent him on his home visits solo after the passing of her Earth bebé's biological father, not wanting to impose and knowing it would be painful to visit when reminded that her niño was growing so much faster than his peers.

After his first semester of Space School, he'd always been tallest in class. Until he'd topped out at barely taller than his Earth family's tallest member.  
After that, he'd always been the shortest, which helped Pleiades pretend he was still young. At least she didn't _treat_ him as if he was; proudly pinning the medal of excellence on him at his Cadette graduation ceremony.

The College didn't make a big deal of it, seeing as they had a few such students every handful of 'years', but they _did_ acknowledge that though he looked older than his classmates, it was on account of his immediate parentage. And that he hadn't been held back.  
In fact, he'd made one of six valedictorian spots. So, ha!  
They had _really_ long graduation ceremonies. Loads of speeches. Was nice though.

 

Aero Star doubted very much that the Dragon's upbringing had been... anything like that, but he would have bet currency on their being a lot of 'outliving others' hidden in the Dragonito's history.  
Especially if he'd been... hatched?... before the end of the age of Dragons. As far as the Space Man knew: the last living Dragon had died before he himself had left Earth with Pleiades for his new life in the Cosmos.

He'd never told his Earth familia, but sometimes, when he was going off to practice his flying technique, he'd fly far, far away, to a place he'd stumbled upon one fine day when he'd first discovered his power of flight.  
There, there were Dragons. At least one anyway. Might've been the last -full scale- Dragon on earth.  
All the young Aero Star had known, was that spying on the great, winged beast was far too much fun to be 'allowed' and that telling anyone about what he loved to fly off and spend most of a given day watching, would be a great way to get himself 'grounded'.

Talk about rough. The poor thing, currently carrying Aero to his doom, may never have even _seen_ another who resembled his more... Lizard like features. Even if there were bones or an intact skeleton laying around somewhere, their was no guarantee it looked anything like him.  
It was in fact, pretty unlikely. Considering your average Dragon had a wingspan of around fifty feet and a head the size of a modest bedroom.

This particular figure, was roughly his own size. Plus wings and a long stabilizing tail.  
Hm. That probably helped quite a bit with banking and maneuvering through this craggy mountain which seemed to be the scaled individual's home territory.  
Aero Star had finally managed to blink enough tears through his eyes that he caught the occasional glimpse of perilous cliff or the tip of a leathery wing when such passed _directly_ in this one, specific section of his usually great field of vision.  
Then, as his body was thunked against solid rock upon his captor's landing, he realized, they were probably entering the Dragon's cave house. And that was probably his collection of bones! Meat licked and picked clean off... everything.

Oh, now he was being -Ow. Yep.- chucked right into the goodly sized mound. Eh, felt like a rib was jabbing him in the... ribs.

Wow, good thing his Space Suit was so sturdy. Otherwise he'd be blind, concussed, bleeding, and those ribs would probably be cracked.  
As it was, he was only experiencing _difficulties_ with seeing, breathing, and staying conscious. He'd probably be 'fine' soon. Provided the serpentine slayer wasn't planning on digging right in.

Come to think of it: To affect him at all through his suit, this stuff must have been **strong**. Oh right, this was probably one of the Dragon's ancient hunting methods! Spitting venom, like some snakes did!  
Aero Star was kinda flattered that he'd been deemed worthy prey.  
Although, that was likely the _almost_ concussion talking.

He groaned as he did his best to slide to the floor, hoping that sitting _upright_ would be helpful in clearing his head; knowing full well that he hadn't been thinking clearly in... however long it'd taken him to get where he was, whence he'd crashed.

Eh. The movement made him _dizzier_ , and his vision wasn't any better. In fact, out of the blinding sun light and in this dark cave, he couldn't see a thing.  
Agh! And the feeling of being dis-attached from his body was evaporating! Oh, what he'd give to be able to wipe that stupid, _awesome_ acid out of his eyes! But his arms were still just as ineffectual as the rest of him. Useless!

Uh-oh. Was that a _sniff_? From **right** in front of his face?

"¿Dragón?" He couldn't help but ask, knowing that the likelihood of a Dragon understanding any human language was infinitesimal, but needing to put out a last word anyway, so really... whatever.

Adiós, Mundo cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. Wanna know what happened next? You might just find out if you click, or press, that 'next chapter' button! I recommend trying the button before attempting anything more serious. I know technology can be confounding, but punching screens is generally not the _best_ way to get the internet to comply.  
>  It may take a few days for Chapter two to go live, but good luck with all your navigational trials!  
> ~Anonymous


	2. A Dragon Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonder how the Dragon saw it? That fateful first encounter with the flying Man From The Cosmos. Wonder no longer!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm passing the hat around! Put in your bets as to whether Drago was as mesmerized by the newcomer as Aero Star was by him? Stay tuned!

The Dragon had started his day with a stretch and a quick ascent to his favorite sunbathing spot, intent on doing nothing for at least... until the sun moved from that side of the sky to _that_ side, way over there.  
He'd eaten a snake the morning previous and admitted to himself that he was getting hungry, but not _so_ that he needed to catch something just yet. Not before the sun was _way_ over there anyway.

He wriggled around a few times, trying to get the sun to fall just so on his wings and get the super warmed rocks beneath to stop jabbing him in the chest, before snuggling down for a nice little snooze.

A strange sound brought him out of his comfy doze, and when he checked the position of the sun and found it was only half way to 'over there', he decided that he hated whatever was making that sound.  
Yep, he thought, getting up into a crouch to better check all around, the sound was growing in volume and getting higher pitched as- there! A weird dot approached, bigger and bigger by the second, until he could make out the shape of it. It was definitely a living creature! But it wouldn't be 'living' for much longer!

He remained in a lowered hunch until the thing flew past his basking spot.  
The moment he was sure it wouldn't see him, he took off, wings beating along with a lucky updraft to bring him to great heights in a long practiced hunting maneuver.  
The Dragon kept pace with the strange thing which had no apparent wings, taking care to only let his shadow touch the figure when he was ready to strike. The little umbra helping with aim, knowing where the sun was also helped, he hit his mark dead on. A scaled shoulder sending the thing -hm, no stabilizers?- rolling and completely off course.

He brought himself up short and trilled his wings in a hover, curious to see whether this new creature would splat into the side of the mountain. Was looking like a sure thing and a quick meal, when it made a sudden dive instead towards the ground.  
Oh well, if it was going to break its neck anyway, he supposed on the ground would be just as entertaining as on the mountain wall. Except he _liked_ watching things roll down the sides. They always looked funny, all chewed up by the toothy rocks, by the time they hit bottom. Or a mesa. Whichever came first.

Heh. It skidded pretty good, but maybe the thing was a better flyer than it looked? 'Cause that impact hadn't _sounded_ like enough to snap something that size's spine. It hadn't even hit head first.  
He was just gonna have to see to it himself.

Huffing in annoyance, but also tingling with curiosity, the Dragon swooped low and set himself on a nice sized perch which _didn't_ threaten to dislodge itself from the foot of the mountain. It was kinda spooky when they creaked like that, so he was careful to check for stability.

He watched the strange non-bird, non-fish... he'd figure it out once he'd tasted it- unfurl a pair of arms from over its unimpressive head and begin scanning the foothills. It couldn't see him.  
If it couldn't see him, he could get the jump on it yet again. But then it couldn't fear him first. Hm. No, he wanted fear.  
So he stalked down the big rock, calloused and scaled hands paying no mind to the pointy bits, not taking his eyes off the squirmy prey the whole way down.

He paused and brought himself up to his full height. Something about the shape of the crumpled creature was familiar, but it was a funny color and the sun seemed almost to glint over most of it. Sort of like off of water.  
He took a step and the creature proved to him that it wasn't maimed by throwing itself to a full stand. Perhaps thinking it was ready for a fight, but he'd show it. _Nothing_ stood a chance against **him**!

He pushed a double wingful of air out of his way and jumped close as he dared to the... hm. They were usually more scared than that.  
Time to make the two legged... shiny monkey?- thing shake where it stood!

He pulled a Dragon roar out from its hiding place in his chest and spread his wings to their full reach, shaking them in a way he knew full well left all manner of creature unnerved.  
But not so much _this_ creature, it seemed. It didn't look so tough, no obvious claws or fangs, so why wasn't it afraid?! Now he was annoyed again!

Deciding he wanted to be done with this tiresome creature, he sprayed a good mouthful from his 'this displeases me' throat sack directly... all over it. Especially where the eyes should have been. Hm. Maybe it didn't possess the power of sight? No, didn't react properly to the _sounds_ of danger either, so maybe it was just... simple?

Ah, finally! Sounds of distress! It'd taken long enough, and soon the thing would be dead and he'd have a full stomach once mo- Wait. What were those sounds it was making?  
He'd heard sounds like that before. Generally avoided them on purpose. Why, he was a little unsure of, but he _knew_ from somewhere near enough to his instincts that he trusted the feeling, that those noises were bad news.

Without a second thought, he whipped his tail around and smacked the creature hard enough across the head that it hit the ground and flopped over. The 'bad news' noise stopped, he reached down, grabbed a leg, and beat his wings hard enough to take flight bearing his soon to be dinner.

He would decide what was to be done while in the comfort and inherent safety of his home. Not out in the open, where all manner of creatures might smell blood and come looking for trouble.

Pleased with how little the... prey he'd caught was resisting, he flew the whole way there without needing to take his attention off flying to smack it in the head again.  
Convenient.

He landed right outside his den and dragged the -Dazed? Dead?- lump behind him, tossing it onto the 'eating' pile before deciding the cave was colder than he wanted it and that this was a perfect time to super heat his 'mmm, warm rocks'.  
Within minutes of breathing hotly on the arrangement of head sized stones, the entire space was far more to his liking and he was ready to inspect the... insect maybe, which was starting to stir and slide down his pile of pristine bones.  
The thing better not have cracked any of them. He was proud of that collection!

He moved right up to the -far less shiny now that he'd gotten it inside- biped which was now sitting on his floor, leaning back against his great pile of past conquests and making little noises of distress; moaning and trying to bring its sad, sad, non-clawed paws high enough to wipe at its eyeless face.  
Heh. Thing didn't know that wouldn't help one bit. Just make its paws hurt too!

He crouched in front of the thing that had made the deadly mistake of interrupting his nap, leaned in close enough to touch it, and gave a good sniff. Which seemed to catch what little attention the mewling creature had left to offer, as its entertaining whimpers cut off and it's head swiveled to a more 'facing the cause of its soon coming demise' direction.

"¿Dragón?"

It was his turn to make a noise of surprise. That noise- that sound... That _word_. It echoed farther back in his memories than he'd tried to look himself in... Eh. It was gone now. Still echoing inside his cave though.

Then the Dragon did something that, for years to come, he had no inkling as to _why_ he had.  
He spat, wetly as he could, from right up close, into the poor, poor, defenseless joke of a creature's face. Such that it was. Having no eyes and no nose. It didn't even have visible ears! Although, neither did he, and he could hear just fine. So maybe the thing _could_ also see and smell? Probably wasn't any good at it though. Getting caught the way it had.

He hopped back, just in case the creature had hidden talons it was interested in pulling out, and watched as his just plain saliva counteracted the 'this displeases me' spit he'd sprayed it with earlier.

After the initial call of fright over having been spit on again, the 'lucky The Dragon wasn't super hungry today', wriggly vertebrate seemed to breathe more easily; taking in large lungfuls as if it had been without good air for a while.  
It also seemed to be inspecting its surroundings rather frantically, convincing him that it could, in fact, see. But not that it had any eyes. That was going to take a _bit_ more convincing.

Then, its face locked with his and the critter froze. Out of fright, awe, or intrigue, he could not tell. But... he thought he could make out the ghost of what appeared to be _intelligence_ and- was that _emotion_?

Was this a truly sentient creature!? Was this a weird, shiny skinned, admittedly fairly tough if it was still able to function, vaguely _him_ shaped -now that he really _looked_ \- piteous... Being?  
Could it- _they_ think? And **feel**? Did they -Or She? He? Xe?- also have the capacity for... loneliness?

"¿Dragón?"

Well that tore it. This _Being_ was sentient. Probably begging for its -His? His felt right.- life from the terrible monster that had nearly smashed him against the side of a mountain.

Nope. It was decided. There would be no eating of sentient creatures in his house. Nor by him in general. There were so few of them as it was. Two if he knew anything at all.  
Though next time, he might need to look a deer in the eye _before_ snapping its neck; just to make certain.

"¿Cuál es el... problema? ¿No me veo... sabroso?"

He had a feeling that the noises weren't supposed to sound that stilted, but he gave the fellow flyer some slack, considering he couldn't remember a single other able to survive his 'death spit'. Not since he'd learned to aim for the eyes anyway.  
Honestly, he was a little surprised his younger self had managed to not die long enough to become his grown self. 

He spent the time his 'guest' was making weird noises building up a big enough pool of salivation, in order to-

"¡Ahhh!"

Haha! That would always be funny! He loved _those_ yelps best! It may even have been more humorous when something _thought_ he was about to kill it; then _didn't_! Because the look on this one's face was exceptional.

"¿Cuál es este? Oh, la quema se ha detenido. ¡Tú saliva es muy impresionante!"

His guest's communication noises were starting to give him a headache. What manner of intelligence would have invented a mode so... annoying? There were no clicks! No rumbling growls nor echoed vocal flap rolls.  
Just a bunch of 'tongue flopping' against a set of dull teeth, with no accompanying head twitches or tail flicks. How was anything else supposed to know one's mood if- oh, right. His killing spit was probably _still_ hindering his not prey's ability to move. Or _will_ to. Never was made clear, considering nothing had ever lived long enough to tell him one way or the other.

Or the seated one was still scared stiff, with no understanding that his host's current posture meant he wasn't going to eat him. Not even going to chase him for sport. Just going to let the -carapaced?- visitor leave and... never return.  
After all: Dragon's didn't _get_ visitors; they got lunch.

He shook his head to make it stop throbbing and told the... unwanted guest that he would appreciate it if he would kindly stop making weird noises and leave his house immediately.

Unfortunately, the visible part of his guest's face twisted up in a way that communicated just fine that Drago's meaning was not gleaned. Not even a little, apparently; as the noises started up _again_. Faster and no quieter this time.

"Guau. ¿Es que cómo hablas? Eres más dragón de lo que pensaba, si solo hablas Lagarto. Pero, me gusta."

He groaned, pushing to a low stand, and reached out for the chatty bother, stopping a little ways off when he saw a twitch of fear affect the other's frame.  
What? He was just offering to help him to his feet, as it looked like he had no intention of leaving on his own. Which was strange, considering he'd narrowly escaped joining his host's shiny bone collection just earlier.

The Dragon stayed put long enough that the other creature grew curious enough to lean forward and see that the outstretched hand was empty. Looking puzzled, he reached out with ginger care and placed his absurdly softer extremity right there, in the grip of a Dragon. A Dragon who closed his hand around the other's and pulled hard enough to get his guest to his feet.

That guest though, wasn't steady as one might hope and ended up overbalancing and faceplanting smack dab in the middle of his scaled chest.  
Unmoved, he gave the cave wall across from him a look that was half annoyance, half wry humor, and **all** 'done'.

Righting the wobbly critter and shove walking him to the cave opening, he looked him in the face and pointed at the sky. Hoping against hope that the fool would fly. Now.

"Gracias por no comerme. ¿Puedo visitar alguna vez?" 

Ignoring the unnecessary gibberish, the Dragon made a shooing motion and gave his wings a little flap, trying to communicate that the weirdo was free to go.  
The other showed some teeth in what he felt was supposed to be a 'happy to be alive, thank you for not eating me', kind of face twitch, touched its head in a quick, though non-threatening movement, blew fire out his _feet_ -of all places- and took off into the sky.  
Vanishing from sight pretty quickly for something so recently almost dead.

His routine thoroughly interrupted, having spent far more energy than he'd have liked to on something that turned out not to be a meal at all; the Dragon gave a 'this displeases me' growl and decided he'd finish his nap _inside_ his house.  
No more distractions for _this_ Dragon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. Perhaps a bit more 'annoyed' than mesmerized? Maybe their next meeting will be more to Drago's liking? You never know where or when you'll make friends after all!  
> Till then,  
> ~Anonymous


	3. Don't Interrupt A Hungry Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time Aero Star showed up, he nearly got eaten for a completely different reason.  
> This time: He interrupted the Dragon's meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drum roll, please.  
> Alrighty, place yer bets! Will Aero Star end up eaten _this_ time?
> 
> Seriously though: This is a look at the second time the Dragon and the Space Cadette met. Let's see how that worked out for them, shall we?

 

The Dragon hadn't eaten since that morning snake snack some days ago. He'd felt a little off since the weird eyeless visitor had flown into the sky, barely over a day after said meal, and hadn't been able to focus well enough to catch anything.  
Until now.

The emptiness in his stomach had been gnawing at him the last day and a half especially, and only in the last few hours had his body realized that it was time to take something down, or suffer the consequences.  
So he found himself, early morning, wings curled as small as they went, shimmying his way through bramble underbrush toward a beatific open glen. A fat little doe on the opposite end of the clearing, chewing and chewing and chewing away on a sparse patch of slightly sun burnt grass, the object of his attention.

He was ready. Downwind and invisible. Moving at a snail's pace, he kept down on all fours and minded that his wing joints stayed below the tops of the brush.  
The doe twitched, though not in his direction, and he took her distraction as a sign that she was ready to forfeit her life to something with far sharper teeth than hers. _Him_.

He launched himself forward and up, slipping through the twigs and scratchy leaves with only as much sound as a gust of wind might make, aiming to come down right on the beautiful pelt of his late in coming meal.

He filled his half splayed wings with just enough air that he'd drop directly on the deer with sufficient force to damage the beast's spine, if not outright snap it.  
Shadow far enough to the side that the inattentive quadruped would be none the wiser, the musky scent of his prey filling his nose, goading him on.  
Bare wing lengths away, his clawed hands tensed, ready and sharpened for the moment they'd sink in and-

"¡Hola Dragónito! ¿Que pas-" Then he crashed right into something he'd hoped he'd never have to deal with again. 

Nearly within _reach_ of his first meal in days, a supposedly sentient roadblock came in for a landing at exactly the right trajectory to put himself in the path of the Dragon's claws. How? 

With quick thinking and ever quicker reflexes, he pulled his wings out to fill with the largest pillow of air possible, knowing he was far too close to avoid a collision, and broke up all tension in his killing muscles.  
They hit straight on, at least ten feet off the ground, and crashed in a heap right where the deer had been grazing a bare moment earlier. 

Rolling off and away from the idiota, he flicked his head all around the clearing, confirming to himself that the delicious ciervo was now nothing more than a scent on the wind. 

Turning on the single most bungling creature he'd met to date, he bared his teeth in anger and snarled, 'You want to die?!', knowing full well the creature wouldn't understand. 

"¡Buenos días mi amigo! ¿Cómo ha estado tú semana? ¿Interrumpí algo?"

The supremely foolish one was attempting communication again, dusting itself off as it stood from the impact site, and tapping a single digit against its mouth at the end.  
All the Dragon heard was, 'blah-blah, bla, blah'.

He _did_ wonder why the avian-esque biped was pointing at its own mouth though.  
Settling on it being some crude attempt at communicating its own personal and intense hunger. Which would make sense, seeing as the incompetent thing had completely botched his sure thing of a meal seemingly on _accident_. Perhaps, even after the fact, not realizing what it'd interrupted.  
Thing was likely on the brink of starvation. Its almost sturdy looking physique notwithstanding.  
Looks could be deceiving. After all: He himself was in great need of food.

While the Dragon wasn't all that interested in seeing the funny other starve, he also wanted to _catch_ something, and didn't see that happening with the glimmering, poor sighted thing getting in his way. It'd nearly gotten itself decapitated! And it wasn't even on the menu! 

He made a shooing motion and flapped his wings, knowing that as the only thing the weirdo had responded well to near the end of their last, and first, encounter. The hope that it'd take the hint dwindling when his new thorn in the side stood straighter -a clear show of defiance-, put seemingly unarmored fists on its hips, and shook its head. It- _He_ -right?- made some more asinine noises which were definitely scaring away every ground squirrel and jackrabbit within... hearing distance and moved a step closer.

In response, the one who'd just been cost a meal, pulled to his full height, wings rattling in warning, and re-opened his mouth enough to show a few wicked fangs. The clueless creature came closer still, no sign of comprehension as to the danger of his predicament displayed on his simplest of faces, nor in his sad excuse for body language.

A rustle? 

He closed the distance between them and shoved a flat hand against the meddling mouth, cutting off the incessant gibbering, and narrowed his eyes in a clear sign for, 'shh!'  
The other tickled his palm with its- _his_ wimpy breath but stayed blessedly quiet. Quiet enough that the Dragon was able to pick out the exact location of-

Within moments, he was in the air and an entire clearing away, talons sinking deep into the prickly back of a mature hog, squeezing the squeal right out of it. One lung at a time.  
Thing went down well for a tusked brute. Sometimes they got it in their heads to give him a fight for their lives, but this one submitted nicely to his hunger.  
Licking a warm trail of blood from his inner forearm, he hugged the fresh carcass to his chest and took off in the direction of his home. Hopeful that his too soon returned headache wasn't interested in- yep. Tagging along. 

No fair. He'd caught the pig himself! He should enjoy the spoils himself as well! Unhappy about being followed, the Dragon batted his tail at the flying figure every time he came closer than someone with wings wanted anything whilst in flight, and overall attempted to make it plain that he _wasn't **wanted**_.

The thing wouldn't take, 'Go die,' seriously, so he was probably going to have a house guest. At least he wasn't trying to steal his pig. His warm, juicy, tender, non-diseased, soon to be digesting in his empty tummy, cerdito. Which he was almost sad was already dead. He liked those soft snorting noises such prey made when rooting around for mushrooms. So simplistic. So carefree. So indicative of their inattention towards the predator perched in the canopy above.  
'Course, this particular piggy would be squealing and trying to scrape off all of his scales were it not extremely dead right then. 

He never touched the stuff himself. Mushrooms. Not since the time his younger self had decided _on top of_ animal droppings wasn't such a strange place to find vegetation and eaten a handful before giving them a real good sniff. They would have smelled like poop anyway, really.  
The far less wise, far more gullible, youngster hadn't been able to fly straight, nor find his way home for over a day. Nearly busted a wing trying, and _failing_ to scale the rock covered wall of the mountain while in the throes of strange waking dreams, wherein non of his limbs felt like his own; all either far to large for his not yet full grown body or else completely unwilling to bend to his finer motor controls.  
He'd also **seen** many sounds.

The whole thing had likely been far more frightening than dangerous, considering there weren't many animals around who tried, with any frequency, to hunt even a young him, but he'd never eaten anything off a pâté of day old meadow muffin again. Lesson learned. Thank you, nature.  
About the same time; he'd decided that herbivore stomachs were a much better place to get his allotment of predigested roughage than was their dung.  
It was either that, or eat _raw_ grass and leaves. So... yeah.

Dismayed at the thought of his 'accomplice' knowing exactly how to get to his home, he took a few round about and circuitous turns once they were over the mountain wall and making through the crags and teeth that made up his 'home defense'.  
When the creature began looking a little lost, he let it see his front door and landed right front of it. The stuck omnivore still clutched against his chest, he pulled his wings around himself defensively, hoping the curious non-Dragon following him inside wasn't going to try any funny business.  
Seeing as they were both sentient and all, he _really_ didn't want to beat the tar out of _someone_ for trying to drag off his fast-breaker. 

He supposed, if he ignored his 'guest' well enough, he would find being a host far less taxing a job.  
So without a backwards glance, he laid out his sizable catch, slid his claws in and pulled the thing open down the middle from sternum to belly button, and breathed blood boiling heat into the cavity before letting it stew for a minute.

Next, remembering how little he enjoyed chewing this sort of animal's hide because of the prickly hairs all over, he caused a chemical reaction in the back of his throat and released a mouthful of fire over the ceiling facing side of the cadaver.  
Smell was impressive, but at least all the poky bits were nothing but wisps of smoke floating out his cave door. Picking them out of his teeth wasn't as much fun as one might think.

His visitor made a noise of... not fear. Sounded like he was impressed. Hm. Impressed by a little braising? Then again, the glitzy, seemingly quite _simple_ , creature was almost certainly incapable of creating his own fire. Except from his _feet_.  
How did he cook food then? Or did he eat everything raw? Like so many animals he'd watched over his life.  
He'd, in his inexperienced years, attempted emulating the practice one too many times and nearly killed himself with stomach poisoning. Turned out; his body liked its meat foods _cooked_.

He couldn't help but acknowledge the stalker's existence with a sideways glance, just to assure himself that the noise wasn't actually one of ill intent.  
Nope. Just a dumbstruck look on an eyeless face. 'Bout what he'd expected.  
Hehe, if the weirdo thought that was impressive, he was gonna have a great time with _this_.

The sulfur in his fire pouch ready for ignition, he raked the claws of one hand down the recently living cerdo's back, going at least half an inch deep, from shoulder to hock, and ran a tendril of fire over the scores... twice, thrice, and with no scarcity of care. 

He glanced up again to see the same look on the same face, but was pleased with how the lines of shock had deepened. This was rather entertaining! Having another sentient around to gape at your abilities. Maybe...

The _still_ unwanted guest stuttered forward and the Dragon couldn't help but flinch at the unexpected movement. This time though, when he flicked his tail, the annoyance seemed to take note and kept where it was. Hm. Maybe this thing was getting better at observing? Or maybe he'd snarled without noticing and the visitor was scared stiff? Whatever. Back to what he was doing. Making breakfast!

He repeated the process, sure to dig at least an inch deep this pass, and licked his lips as the smell turned to something resembling 'food'.  
After a third time, that side was flamed well and through enough that his rumbling stomach could finally get something fitting settled into it, and he wasn't interested in making it wait. Unable to help licking the hot, slightly cooked blood off his claws, he used clean and glistening meat hooks to carve a long strip from the roast. Bubbled skin and all was chomped, ripped, and savored till he was again licking the drippings from his hands. Still no where _near_ satisfied, but now assured that he wouldn't be dying anytime soon, he glanced around his 'dining room' and froze when he locked faces with the colorful form he'd completely forgotten was there. Gawk even wider than last he'd checked.

With deliberation, and a good amount of self control, he reached down, carved a fresh length from the succulent shoulder, hip, and rump, and held it aloft. Staring at the strip and politely _not making_ any aggressive twitches. 

After what felt like far too long to spend _not_ eating something so well charred and fresh, the sound of feet scraping his floor and a soft mumble preceded the food leaving his hand and moving away with the single reason he'd nearly gone without any breakfast at all today.  
He'd decided to forget the poor, unskilled one his transgression though, and found that he couldn't find it in himself to sentence him to death by privation. It had been a long time indeed since he'd shared anything off his proverbial table with another living thing. Let alone a good cut like the one the simple creature was still just _inspecting_.  
Maybe the creature thought he'd given him that strip because there was something wrong with it? Maybe he didn't eat meat? What with those blunt, wimpy teeth- but, no. Had the smell about him of a meat eater.  
Must just have been displeased somehow. Rejecting his thoughtfully given _gift_.

He observed the visitor running unimpressive fingers over the black skin of his artfully cooked **gift** for a few more seconds and was about to give up on the creature as a hopeless case altogether, when the slow one jerked his head up and nodded with vigor. Following that up by dropping into a deep crouch, opening his mouth, exposing a full set of teeth before sinking them with gusto into his double fist of juicy, delicious boar. Skin and all. The way it was _meant_ to be eaten.  
Hm. A rather pleasing sight. The thing chewed quite a bit though. No doubt on account of those sad teeth.

Snorting, his tail and wings ruffling some in an involuntary, self satisfied fashion, he turned back to his culinary creation and opened the thing back up. Time he got to that stomach! 

His body thrummed immediately as the relatively fresh enzymes from a pig's breakfast of toadstools, sundry tubers, insects, and other greener things which he himself had difficulty with, hit his gullet and slithered into _his_ stomach. The omnivore's donated organ itself, and doubly so the contents, were a satisfying nearly scalding; gouts of warm steam tickling his eyes and nostrils as he quaffed mouthful after mouthful, until he was left holding an empty bag. Ready for _more_

"Ay, Dios mío." 

The ugly noise, as well as a desperate sounding retching pulled his attention from his hunger, once more reminding him that he had company.  
He held up the sopping stomach sack to the doubled over guest, averting his eyes when the other noticed the offering. This one though, wasn't accepted, so instead of becoming upset, he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth and ate it before his rude visitor could change his decision and take his favorite -well, almost favorite- part from him.  
Gulping the vestiges of the tasty thing down his throat, the Dragon readjusted his wings for a more stable base, and tore a leg clear of the corpse. The snap, pop, and tear of the bones, ligaments, skin, and muscles all making his mouth water so that he could hardly keep from slavering right onto the floor. 

Holding it from both extreme ends, he caressed the appendage with a lower intensity fire, intermittently rotating it, making sure not to heat all the moisture from the crackling flesh. Pretty sure that anything looking at a leg the way his 'hunt crasher' was couldn't possibly refuse, he held it out. Eyes not wavering from the leg with the cloven hoof on one end and a good amount of springy cartilage on the other.  
He was gonna need himself one of those next!

So he watched his newest work getting chomped into just long enough to know it was being appreciated, then tore another stubby, pig leg free and started on it. Not quite as patient with the roasting process the second time around. His stomach was still complaining about all the unfilled space inside.

"Es tan rico! Gracais."

He flicked his tail in annoyance. Wishing the sentient would choose a more effective way of communicating than whatever it called those… noises it seemed to like so much.  
Hm. Actually: The newcomer had been quieter this time, hadn't he? Maybe he was making an effort at being less annoying? Whether that was his intended effect, it was working. Marginally.  
The Dragon was enjoying the sounds of the both of them rending the food off those well formed pig bones far more than he'd enjoyed just about any sound since the echo of his visitor flying away had stopped ringing in his ears some days ago.  
Perhaps… he was beginning to not _begrudge_ the company. 

As he munched the last of the pink sinew from the gam, he found himself studying the interloper's progress. Not near as close to finished, but seemingly doing his best to put the thing away.  
Now that he _looked_ ; the other was… emulating his technique. As if he didn't know how to eat the delicious food item on his own and needed the guidance. But, he was also crouched with his head at the same height and body at the same angle from the slowly disappearing cadaver as his own.  
Hmph. Copy cat. 

About the time the Dragon had finished roasting and gnawing the cute piggie snout off the perfectly willing -now hand held- head, the guest licked his lips, set the leg whose thigh was cleaned of every shred of life giving protein on the floor, almost with reverence, and shuffled a few feet towards the cave entrance. Only then coming to his feet, face lowered and hands visible.  
Strangest of things: In the span of one morning, the creature had become considerably less rude and infuriating. If he kept that up, he might even receive an _invitation_ to dine sometime. 

Then his guest did something he couldn't have expected possible. He _said_ something. 

"Gracias por la comida. Y por dejarme comerlo contigo."  
<"Thanks… food… With you">

He was standing and across the distance before he could process what he'd just heard. His guest had **spoken**. Broken and poorly pronounced, with a dream like quality around the edges, yes, but it was _communication_ all the same!  
What else could this strange creature do? Could it say more? Could it understand _him_ as well? Why hadn't it done anything of the sort until now?! 

His eyes flashed at the sound of distress and he realized where he was… and where his hands were: around the upper arms of the only other _being_ he'd ever known to possess the power of true speech he could remember meeting.  
He snapped his hands open and hopped back, wings drooping and eye ridges contracting at the thought that he might have scared off the only potential… equal this wide land he knew as home had to offer. 

"Esta bien. Entendo. No querías hacer ningún daño."  
<"...Understand…You... no… harm.">

His extremities went ridged. Sure, still had a less than real quality to it, and was still garbled to the point of near incomprehension, but he was being _spoken_ to. And it seemed he hadn't scared the tenacious weirdo in his blind desperation.  
He _knew_ any other thinking creature on the face of the plains would have bolted. Why was this one staying put? The visitor's body language speaking clear as day that he was trying not to scare the _Dragon_ in the cave. The Dragon nearly tripping over the discarded pig legs as he backed farther and farther away from the one between him and the exit. A look of genuine confusion plastered over his usually rather stoic face.

"Cálmese. Todo esta bien."  
<"… Ev'rything's FiNe.">

His lungs were working as if he'd been flying hard for quite some time, but he was just standing in the middle of his house, by the cooling breakfast he'd been sharing with the other by the strong sunlight.

Before he knew he was doing it, he was asking a question. He got an immediate answer.

"Si. Puede hablar."  
<"Yes..Can..talk.">

Now that he'd heard it a few times, he became aware that his guest was still making those same irritating noises that he'd been making since the beginning. Difference being that now his body seemed to know what it wanted to say. Not with any nuance, _certainly_ no nuance, and jerky, as if all of this was brand new to him -which it sure seemed to be-, but it was a great step in the right direction.  
And if he didn't listen hard, he thought he could hear some thin layer of appropriate clicks and growls and- _intonations_ covering, nearly smothering, those strange, indecipherable noises the glittering one had been solely able to use _that same morning_.

"Mi nombre es Aero Star. ¿Lo que es tuyo?"  
<"I… Aero Star… Who you?">

His head cocked to the side.

"No?" The vexing creature tapped one foot against the ground and one hand against his jaw several times in a way the Dragon wasn't sure how to interpret. "¿Puedo llamarte Drago?"  
<"No…">  
<"Call ... Drago?">

His head cocked to the opposite side, wings perking at the sound of that last… word.

"¿Sí, Drago? ¡Drago es!"  
<"Drago!....">

Though it looked as if this… Aero Star wanted to meet him where he was, a good halfway to the back wall with no intention of moving any closer, and converse until the sun went down and the fresh roasted pig went sour; the guy backed all the way outside. Keeping his hands completely visible and his face showing his respect by being cast toward his own feet. Until he was outside the Dragon's lair, anyway.

"¡Te veré pronto!"

The flustered Dragon had no idea what _that_ had been; all the good body language having disappeared the moment direct sun had engulfed the shiny one. Making him flash like a fish in a clear pond.  
Then his _speaking_ breakfast visitor jogged a few lengths from the cave, and took off into the sky.. Reminiscent of how he had nearly one week previous. This time, not covered in Dragon saliva. 

Had he just been given… a name? By some weirdo who called himself 'Aero Star'? A weirdo who _might_ just prove far more intelligent and capable than he'd thought possible. Maybe- _possibly_ as smart as himself; the most cunning hunter, the most terrible thing riding the sky currents he'd encountered. And something told him he'd be seeing _more_ of the flyer. Soon. 

He'd try not to attack… 'Aero Star' the next time he popped up. However unintentionally.  
Hm. Was he going to be hunting for two for the foreseeable future? Nah. Looked like the softy couldn't stomach much more than a thigh. Sharing was gonna work out just fine.

Now, on to those spare ribs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any more to Drago's liking than the first meeting? Probably at least a little, right?  
> Hopefully he is able to continue _not_ killing his new buddy! They need to get to know each other after all!  
>  And if you enjoyed chapter three, please be advised that a chapter four will be making an appearance within... only a few days!  
> Please enjoy this elevator music in the meantime and I'll be looking forward to seeing ya'll at the unveiling!  
> ~Anonymous


	4. Aero Star Comes Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aero Star and his Dragon 'friend' seem to see things differently. Let's take a peek at Aero's interpretation of the morning!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. Wonder what Aero thinks of Drago's hunting and culinary prowess now that he's not in immediate danger of ending up on the 'table' himself? Wonder no longer!  
> Please feel free to enjoy Aero Star's morning!

Aero Star started off his day by rolling out of bed, _not_ bumping his head when he hit the floor, and putting a little breakfast in his belly before flying out of his cloaked Space vehicle and starting a search for his newest buddy: The Dragon.  
He figured it was time for that visit he'd promised, so he'd had his onboard navigation system scope the place out and give him a 'most likely' spot to scout. 

After being set free by a Dragon who hadn't had any good reasons to set him free, and who'd definitely understood him about as well as _he'd_ understood the Dragon, Aero had cracked open the file on his suit's onboard translator -which he rarely even remembered came standard, seeing as how he was fluent in several Earth languages as it was- and started up a subroutine which would allow him to learn the Dragon's language. Sort of.

The suit had sensors which were always reading atmospheric information, helping with flight and navigating dangerous terrains, and which were perfectly capable of relaying information to him through his visor.  
All he had to do, was ask it to read the Dragon's body language and all the adorable little noises it made, and help him translate all those things into a framework he could begin to understand. Depending on how well it worked, he might be able to _speak_ back to his new friend. Once the translator got past the buffering. 

He caught sight of the Dragon, though just barely, slinking through some underbrush on the edge of a large copse of scruffy trees.

Perhaps excitement won out over good judgment, but Aero couldn't wait to get the translation protocol started up and hard at work, so he swooped to land near the forest, a respectful distance from his hidden friend.

He surely hadn't been expecting to be tackled to the ground by a Dragon it turned out had missed him too!

Oops. About the time he remembered to switch on the translator, a hand was on his mouth and he was surprised well enough that he went silent. Then, huge wings were beating and the gray menace was a ways off. By the sound of it, wrestling a pig to death. Yikes.  
He caught up with the pair as the poor pig breathed its last and the Dragon licked its arm clean of… dirt? There had to be a better way to stay clean out here! 

Aero Star was impressed that the Dragon could _lift_ a hog that size, let alone take off with his arms laden down with all that dead weight.  
Then he remembered that the same had been done to him no more than seven days ago, and that it was pretty unlikely the modestly sized cerdo weighed any more than he did.  
Still _looked_ impressive.

So transfixed by the sight was the Space man, that he just about forgot that his plan for the morning involved _following_ his new buddy. Otherwise, how would his suit's onboard translator **ever** build up a big enough file of first hand observed communication queues that he could learn to understand him?

He took off at full force and caught up before he'd lost track of the Dragon, who was flying almost as if purposefully trying to _not_ be followed. Haha! They were already playing a game! This was going to be great!

Aero had difficulty staying a straight course, what with all the wind those huge wings were creating, and how distracted he was in studying the rippling muscles all up and down the scaled upper body.  
How was he sustaining such speed without the help of his arms? Why was he in such a hurry to get... 'home'? Oh! The tiny Dragon must have been hungry! That'd make sense, considering he'd been slinking around in the underbrush when he'd spotted him. The predator made finding him pretty difficult no matter the terrain. Special talent, no doubt.

A flaming Dragon eye flicked his way and Aero's breath caught. The look was so intent, so intense. It was a massive shame he had no idea what it was supposed to mean.  
Then he had to slipstream to the side, barely avoiding getting smacked by a playful tail's swipe. At least he was pretty sure it was playful. Could be though, that the thoughtful reptile didn't want Aero Star getting too close and messing up the rhythm of his wing beats.

Either way, he got swiped at a few more times before they topped the rise near the place where he'd crash landed almost a week ago. Fond memories of his discovery of the Earth's last remaining vestige of a once vicious race of giant, majestic creatures popping up.  
Less fond memories of very nearly being eaten, and the headache he'd felt for days, being forced from his mind.  
That was the past. He was friends with a Dragon now. Whether the bat-winged flyer with the endurance of a Space cruiser knew it or not!

And wow were those wings impressive in the full light of morning sunshine! And that tail! Coming close enough to smack him upside the-  
He dodged again and slipped back a few more feet, giving his bud room to maneuver the increasingly perilous surroundings. Definitely not wanting to be responsible for an avoidable injury.

Come to think of it: this was the longest he'd seen the Dragon -clearly- in daylight. The last time being cut short by a face full of acid and then spending the rest of his visit inside a gloomy cave.  
Out here, banking around sharp juts and veritable gargantuan stalagmite, the sun caught the slight iridescence of the scales covering most of the rippling muscles along the flying anomaly's back and sides in a way Aero attempted to commit to memory. It was beautiful.  
Then he remembered that his visor could store visual information and he asked it to capture a few stills. And a short recording. For scientific purposes. In case he someday needed to submit this area as a wildlife reserve with the Cosmic Conservation Of Cryptids Coalition.  
That was all.

About then, Aero Star recognized the creeping feeling in his gut saying that they should already have reached the cave house. Was he being given the runabout? That was amazing! He'd known the Dragon was intelligent and possessed the capacity for thought and complex emotions, such as empathy or sympathy, but he hadn't guessed just _how_ intelligent.  
This relic from the Earth's passing ages was trying to get him turned around, so that Aero might not be able to find his house in the future! Wow, he was going to have to explore the limits of this splendid individual's mental capabilities. What if- what if... What if this particular _anthropomorphic_ Dragon was on the problem solving or, perish the thought, **cognitive** level of a modern _human_?  
Not like a toddler, as many intelligent animals were known to be, but a fully grown one? Maybe even, on a level with a Cosmic valedictorian such as himself?

And the Dragon dropped right out of the air and nearly out of sight, giving Aero almost no time to cut the thrust and land a dozen feet behind him, on the level bedrock leading to his cave entrance.

Where last time he'd been dragged in by one ankle and tossed onto a pile of bones, this time he was allowed to enter of his own volition and watch the Dragon at work. He really should have been recording _all_ of this, but if this lone enigma was as self determined and conscious of his existence as Aero Star was beginning to believe; he'd need to wait until he could ask permission for such an intrusion.  
As it was, he wasn't obviously being told to leave -felt a bit more like being ignored, really-, so this was good for now.

He watched, trying not to feel **_extremely_** lucky not to be in the poor pig's place, as the winged slayer dug claws far sharper than he'd thought they'd looked, into the flesh of the deceased oinker's belly. Feeling only a thimble of bile hit the back of his teeth as the bowel cavity was opened and an unearthly smell filled the space.  
Yeah. He was lucky alright.

He couldn't have looked away if he'd tried when the crouched butcher leaned his face practically _inside_ the gaping opening and _breathed_. At least it was an exhale. Of what appeared to be super heated air, if the heat waves were a credible indication.  
The guts were mercifully hidden once more by strong hands pulling the cavity closed. Thank the lor-

And then the tiny, tiny Dragon breathed **fire**. And Aero Star's world was _blown_.  
Sure, he'd seen a full sized Dragon breathe fire, long ago, and so had figured this one might be able to, but to _see_ such a miraculous thing come out of such a human-like throat was more than he could have hoped for! With such control too! He couldn't help the sound of awe that came out of _his_ throat.

He got a glance for that, so maybe he wasn't going to be ignored for the entire visit. Which would be nice, considering he _really_ wanted to learn Dragon speak. 

Aero Star was unable to tear his eyes from the sight, as the 'chef' created channels all the way down the dead animal's back, pretty deep looking too, then breathed fire over and into the scored flesh. Before he'd finished a repeat of the process, the absolutely repugnant smell that a cerdo's abdominal cavity makes when you open it up was fairly well replaced with a new, similarly strong smell. _This_ one though likely qualifying as 'pleasant' to most meat eating creatures.  
The cave filled pretty quickly with the soft crackling of a well fatted pig being roasted, reminding him of some of the fiestas he and his family had attended… so long ago now. Actually, after that third pass; the resemblance was uncanny! How did the Dragon know so well how to cook an intact pig?!  
He needed to see this for himself! 

He took a stiff step forward, but pulled himself up short when he thought he heard a whispered, 'Back!'.  
Where- What? Oh, the translator was coming online! That tail twitch, his visor was kind enough to point out, had meant the Dragon wanted him to not come any closer. Wow. Talking with your tail? Aero was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to do _that_ anytime soon. But… if he kept an eye out for it, he might learn to read those kinds of signs without needing to run his translator!

Just as mesmerizing as the thing's eclectic modes of communication, was the way he was pulling a long strip of seemingly perfectly cooked meat off the stretch of- oh. Now he was shoving the whole thing in his mouth, barely chewing after the initial chomp, chomp, chomps. Any juices being slurped up and off his probably unsanitary hands.  
Aero Star had never seen anything, let alone any _body_ eat so fast. It was… something _else_.  
Then he was staring at a second strip of pork, held above the floor a few feet out from the Dragon's body, in his direction, and he didn't know what to think of that. 

He scooted forward, looking for any visible sign that he shouldn't and seeing no flick nor twitch, he walked close enough to reach out and take the meat from the friendly Dragon. Then he walked back to the place he _knew_ his bud didn't mind him being.  
Wow. The chef had managed to make something his visor confirmed for him was edible, without a cooking degree and in a _cave_ that didn't have any cooking implements or even a roasting spit. This was amazing! The skin was bubbled but not overly charred, the nearly inch thick cut itself cooked pretty evenly through, leaving plenty of pink and a fair amount of bloody juices, but nothing that had a real chance of causing a horrible sickness.  
He'd never expected Dragons to be so thorough!

'Annoyance.' What?  
'Rejection.' The translator!

Aero Star looked up from his beautifully crafted steak to meet a pair of eyes that seemed to glow in the relative gloom of the cave, and in them he thought he saw disappointment. He couldn't let his friend think he didn't appreciate the gift!  
So he did what made most sense; copying the one in who's 'dining room' they were currently spending time.

The Space Cadet gave a big nod, figuring his host should understand the movement, crouched, and brought the surprisingly 'fit for consumption ' hunk of meat to his face. Then he did his best impression of the Dragon's eating technique his teeth would allow for, taking as much care as he dared to not burn his mouth on the still _hot_ bundle.

'Pleasing.' He heard through the loud munching he was affecting, glancing up in time to catch the adorable ruffle that ran through the Dragon's whole body. Heh. So that was a happy ruffle? It made his wings and tail look a lot softer than the 'stay back' twitch did. He could pick that out for sure!

Oh? More happy ruffles? What was he- oh, no. The Dragon was opening the abdomen back up! And- was that the stomach?!  
If Aero had any better self-control, he'd have looked away as soon as the little bladder like organ had been excised from the piggy paunch, but he was only human. So to speak.  
Instead, he found himself unable to do himself the decency, staring at a full, slippery stomach being drained by an enthusiastic dinner host. Trying all the while to _not_ allow his stomach the pleasure of copying the cerdo's.  
He liked his breakfast to stay _inside_ his body, thanks.

He could barely believe what he'd just **seen**! And now the Dragon was offering him the empty stomach! There was no _way_ he was eating that, so even at the expense of coming across as rude, he stayed _put_ and swallowed a small, regurgitated mouthful of the freshly devoured pork back down his throat.  
Lord only knows what his host would think if he'd let the stuff actually come back up and out.

Oh, he'd never've guessed _that much_ could fit in a mouth at once. An entire stomach? Was it him, or was the room spinning just a bit?

Then came the snap-crackle-pop of a giant lizard tearing a _leg_ off a full grown hog.  
Yep. The room was- he must have been a tad more squeamish than he'd previously thought.

Hm. Looked like the Dragon might've been... showing off now. Turning the show of brutality into more of an act of culinary finesse, performed for an audience of one.  
Cute thought. Aero liked it. Plus, that leg was starting to look pretty appetizing. His mouth was starting to water. And he wasn't even all that hungry.

When the leg was offered up the same way the back meat had been, he didn't hesitate to retrieve it, knowing that his server definitely wanted him to.  
Again he tried out his Dragon style table manners, stretching his maw wide and chomping down on as big a bite as he could, and attempted to ignore the fresh from the fire temperature.  
His generous host might not understand the concept of 'it's too hot,' considering the _fire_ that'd cooked the meal came out of his mouth.

For a while, the only sounds in the cave were those made by the two of them devouring a matching set of hefty pig legs. Lots of gnawing, some rather endearing growling, and a good amount of lip smacking. Also some of his visor whispering, 'Mm. Good,' and 'Slow eater,' in his ear. Making him only the slightest bit self-conscious.  
Until he remembered that he was _not_ a Dragon and therefore shouldn't be held to the same standards as one. 

Aero was sure to clean as much meat off the bone as he had room for in his absolutely **full** belly, and figured that a fully exposed femur would have to do. Seeing as any more would probably bust a stomach seam, or something else just as unpleasant.

Rather unwilling to leave the show of friendship behind, but knowing it would be put to better use on top of the impressive bone pile not far off, Aero Star set the pierna de cerdo on the ground. Fingers lingering momentarily.  
He needed to leave before he was offered _any_ more food.

Aero reminded himself of the way the Dragon had averted his eyes anytime he'd offered food to him. Extrapolating that it was probably a polite gesture, he did similarly; the while, scooting toward the cave exit.  
A non-threatening distance away, he came to a stand, palms open in a universal sign of, "No weapons," and thanked his breakfast buddy. Genuinely surprised when his words came out with a tentative translation laid over everything.

It usually took quite a while longer than one breakfast to get a bead on the intricacies- the ins and outs of a brand new language, such as that likely _invented_ by a lone example of an indigenous... extinct species. Such as this Dragon standing _right_ in front of him. Gripping his arms- Wait! When had that- How did- How fast had the Dragon moved?!

He couldn't help the involuntary call, a mix of alarm and distress, that popped out of his chest.

The response was immediate: The tiny Dragon dropped his arms like hot potatoes, hopped back a tidy several feet, and looked suddenly all together miserable. As if realizing he'd done something unforgivable. Which was a huge overreaction, really.  
The poor guy had obviously been spooked _himself_. Even Aero hadn't been expecting a translation so early in the recon stage.

He made to calm the, 'Regret. Accident,' from the... entire scaled form across from him. Not sure whether the deep, 'Confusion,' was much better, but hoping all the same. 

He couldn't have hoped for anything as wondrous in answer as an originated question. In Dragon!

'You speak?' Came to his ears in both the indecipherable, ingenious clicks and growls he'd heard before, _and_ in the unreal cadence of a translated whisper.  
Wow. His host's language must have been similar to other preprogrammed, sentient lizard species' on record. Amazing.

As he answered in the affirmative, a thought that should have considerably _earlier_ hit him in the smarts. He hadn't introduced himself!  
So he did. 

When the Dragon didn't introduce himself back, he realized the privilege fate had handed him.  
So long as his bud didn't mind: He was gonna _name_ the unique individual who was getting pretty close to the back of the cave.

At the sound of his posited, "Drago?", his host paused and gave a-

'Hm,' along with an 'Interested,' head cock, wing perk combo, signifying to Aero Star that he'd found a moniker. First try too.

"¡Drago es!" He saw the vexation, or perhaps pure confusion in the Drag- in _Drago's_ posture. It informed him that he better not push harder than would be tolerated by someone who was unfamiliar with the concept of a translator.

So he made a rather curt exit, promised to visit soon, and took off. Hoping the look of being lost wiped itself soon from the face in which he was picking out ever more intelligence.  
He _really_ wanted this to work out. Not so he could radio home and gloat that he'd made friends with the last living Dragon, but because he **felt** a rightness whenever he found himself confronted by that fiery spirit. Communicated beautifully through those torch like eyes.

 

He decided he should give the Dragon a few days to process what may have been, if one took the reaction into consideration, the first conversation he'd ever had with another living soul.  
On that bittersweet thought, Aero Star re-entered his Space vehicle with every intention of making good on his promise once again.  
He'd be visiting ' _Drago_ ' soon. Hopefully the friendly Dragon would be up for it by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a doozy for the pair, wouldn't ya say? Perhaps from now on, Aero won't be _nearly_ eaten every time he wants to visit! And if he gets those manners in real well, and Drago gets over the weird out factor of being _spoken_ to, he'll definitely be invited for a meal some time!  
>  With any luck, that won't be too far from now!  
> Till next they meet,  
> ~Anonymous


	5. Dragon's Just Wanna Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aero Star drops by for a visit. And this time, his new Dragon friend _doesn't_ almost end his life! Progress!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do Dragon's do when company comes calling?  
> What do Aero Star's do when planning a visit?  
> Let's find out!

Aero Star, thinking this time he'd let his winged friend come to _him_ , spent the first several minutes of his day mapping out the mountain range where he'd first been 'bumped into' by the- Drago. Figuring that to be a pretty good place to fly around in circles, hoping to attract a certain carnivore's attention.

Being several Earth days since his... being allowed to dine with the Dragon in his cave home, Aero couldn't stand to stay away any longer. After all; he needed to make sure he hadn't accidentally spooked the poor hunter too badly. A universal translator could be pretty unnerving to anyone who'd never heard one before. Let alone, never heard _of_ one.

Aero'd used the intervening time wisely, taking frequent advantage of his visor's stored visuals to study the body language queues that seemed to make up a goodly chunk of his new buddy's communication repertoire. Supplementing that with replaying audio logs with and without the translator switched on. Doing his best to catalogue 'pleased' and 'annoyed' into distinct categories in his mind, seeing as those were the two that cropped up most.

Sorting through all those clicks and growls, though a worthwhile endeavor and _totally_ worth it if it helped him understand the scaled individual, was challenging enough that it reminded Aero of the days when most of his time had been eaten up with studying. Though he'd enjoyed most of the requisite materials, to varying degrees, he'd been pretty happy to leave the academic world _behind_ when graduation finally rolled around.

Thankfully, those audio files and visual recordings were all part of an elective he'd taken up of his own volition. No one was breathing down his neck and expecting a dissertation at the end of the course. The only one pushing him to get the most out of it all as he possibly could, was himself.  
It gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach. In a _good_ way. Not the way eating something that was way too spicy did.

As he took off from his cloud based base for a day off -hopefully- to be spent with a living, fire breathing _Dragon_ , he reminded his suit to enact its translation protocol before they approached the coordinates.  
Seeing as the recordings he had were extremely limited, Aero needed every second more that he could get, in as wide a variety of settings as possible. Confident that if he had enough material, before too long, he'd be able to yank off the training wheels and understand his new friend without the need for... much help from the translator.  
Oh, right. He'd need it on anyway, so Drago could understand _him_. Hm. Maybe if he practiced all that body language in a mirror for a **long** time- No. He'd never be able to replicate those artful screeches and growls. Not through a throat as close to human as his own

About then, he could make out the mountain range, so he pushed disappointing thoughts from his mind and set his sights instead on the task of finding his newest pal.  
Turned out easier than he'd been hoping!

A tiny Dragon, even tinier from where Aero Star was, beginning a large circle above and a little away from the desolate peaks and crevasses, lit on a relatively flat piece of leveled off rock along the crest. Obviously tracking Aero's progress.

 

Drago watched as Aero Star landed a respectful distance from where he stood, his wings as politely folded as he could screw them. A difficult way to hold them when an excitement as strong as the one he felt coursing through him then just wouldn't let up. His body craved the sky, but he knew some sort of... communication was needed before he could take off.  
Otherwise the shimmering one who'd waited until he'd nodded his head in greeting to face him fully would probably think he'd just flown off. Because he hates him. Which wasn't true. Drago'd been hoping the visitor would come around again.  
After all: He'd looked a deer in the eye. No one home.

He looked the fellow over, noting as he did that this Aero Star didn't seem to have lost any weight and that his posture also would indicate a well kept body. So either this new friend of his required only infrequent feedings, or he was indeed capable of feeding himself.  
A comforting thought, but Drago was still set on watching out for the poor thing.

With exactly that in mind, the Dragon spread his wings and invited the other flyer to join him in the sky.

 

<"Come. Follow."> Aero found he wouldn't have had any trouble interpreting the meaning, but the translator left no room for doubt, so he obliged and took off right behind the excited Dragon. A Dragon who's wings he was grateful to be this close to, flying a bit lower and behind in an attempt to be out of the path of any downbeat.  
From that vantage, the sun shining down on the mantle of webbing, scales, and bone worked almost like a radiograph in allowing Aero to practically see _through_ one of the most beautiful pair of appendages he'd ever laid eyes on.

Drago had healthy veins. Some seeming to stretch the length of their wing, from body to tip; carrying blood and its fresh oxygen from a pair of lungs which must have had a huge capacity to sustain such-

<"Where?"> Aero, seeing Drago check behind, above, to either side, and _then_ underneath himself until he caught sight of his show and tell audience of one, broke himself out of his trance like study of those inhuman, leathery implements of flight long enough to pop off a quick salute. Remembering when the Dragon quirked his head and set eyes forward once more, that the move would have absolutely no significance to his guide.  
A guide who... Where _was_ Drago taking him? 

 

Drago'd figured out while he was pretty young that fish were okay to eat raw. Some of them he could just swallow whole, straight out of the water, if he felt like it.  
Not his favorite way to go about it most days though. He kind of liked the way the scales fell off and the flesh got all flaky when he cooked it just right. Depending on exactly where he'd gotten the given fish, he also ate _around_ the whole process and elimination tract. He wasn't a fan of full on algae diets. Much better if the fish ate other fish.

Today he had planned out in advance. So long as the- _Aero Star_ was interested in following him. As he'd been the last visit.

He took off in the direction of his favorite, mm... make it _second_ favorite spot for noodling. He didn't know yet whether his visitor was a swimmer, and a pool at the bottom of a thirty foot hole in solid rock with very little light most times of day was probably not the best place to find out.

The fish down there were mostly blind, light colored things with long whiskers that they used to feel around for morsels in the dark waters. He was pretty sure their main source of food was those funny little glowing worms that grew down there.  
But if they were, why didn't _they_ glow?

He glanced to make sure Aero Star was keeping up with him, and was nearly concerned until he spotted the shimmery... scaled? creature bellow him.  
He wondered yet again how it was that his flying company could keep a straight course without the help of stabilizers, a tail, _wings_ , **eyes** , or even his arms.  
Then, seeming to notice he was being looked for, Aero Star made a superfluous motion with one arm which had Drago puzzled. It hadn't thrown off his trajectory at all, yet he'd done nothing to compensate for it.  
Perhaps he was a more skilled flyer than Drago'd given him credit for. He had after all only seen him fly... five times before. 

 

Aero followed Drago's lead and put his eyes front, trying to spot where it might be that he was being led.  
To that far away peak over there? Probably not.  
That little forest? Nope. Past it by without a downward glance.  
Oh, maybe they were going hunting together! At a secluded lake? Hmm.

Aero marveled at the existence of such a place, snuggled into the lee of a massive, red stone mesa with an additional sheltering of well spaced scrub brush trees grown in a ring around the remainder.  
Aero realized with a wry shake of the head, that if they hadn't taken that turn Drago'd just prompted for them, he wouldn't have seen the place at all.

The Dragon made beautiful work of touching down, folding his wings, and drooping into an immediate, deep crouch, sending up the barest cloud of loose dust and making almost no sound. Leaving the place as silent and peaceful as it had seemed from the air.  
But why were they there? Was there something, aside from the unusual natural formation itself that Drago wanted to show him?

 

Drago turned to his 'tail', pleased that the smaller one had managed to land without screaming for once, and motioned as emphatically as he could for Aero Star to stay right where he'd crouched. Then he slinked himself ahead, straight up to the waters edge, and slithered right on in. Causing the fewest ripples he could. Wings pulled in close until he was fully submerged, then deployed as propulsion not through clear air, but through the murk and gloom of a lake bottom. Prey hunted by feel and instinct alone among the reedy recesses.  
With no way to smell underwater, and eyes unable to protect themselves from the sting of fast rushing currents created by traveling at near flying speeds, Drago felt very much like one of those pale cave dwelling fishes he enjoyed the taste of so much.

As he surprised a small school of fish he knew to be silver scaled and quick, he hoped the Aero Star he'd left on the bank hadn't gotten bored and scared off all the local wildlife with his flashy, noisy ways.  
If the one who'd given him a name stayed where he'd asked him to, he'd cast no shadow on the water surface and the sneaky fish would have no warning that a Dragon was coming for them. Just the way he liked it.

 

Wow. Aero couldn't keep his awe in check as he tracked the Dragon's serpentine approach, then submergence into the still water some distance off. Not a splash displaced against the rocky far side of the bank at the addition of one, admittedly tiny, Dragon to the pot.

The Space man stayed crouched, just as he'd been bade by a serious looking guide, well over a minute ag- Wait! How long could Drago hold his breath!?  
What if he got stuck down there and drowned?!

Aero stopped himself before he'd unfolded completely, remembering his thought concerning the winged lizard's lung capacity. Factoring in how very _not_ winded he'd been upon landing; he'd probably be comfortable underwater, barring any disasters, for at least three minutes.  
So Aero had another... minute and a half of sanity left. Not too shabby.

About the time his tenuous grasp on 'don't worry, he's **fine** ' began slipping, a ripple broke the tension of the water's surface. Right out in the middle of it all.  
The ripple of a surfacing Dragon?

The ripple spearheaded in his direction, leaving a larger and larger wake the farther it came, and caused the guy who hadn't been swimming in _quite_ some time to wonder just how fast something had to travel to cause such a thing.  
Drago certainly didn't appear to be an amphibian, and Aero hadn't seen any gills on the scaled neck. Could he be expected to swim as quickly as it look-

Not a dozen feet from the bank, the movement causing the disturbance stopped. A few bubbles broke the water where the ripple had disappeared, and about a second later, something rose from the lake.

It was massive, covered in oily clumps of stick peppered hair, and positively coming straight for him; breathing heavily and taking lurching steps.  
Aero fell backwards onto his rump and called out in surprise, or terror, eyes not wavering from the monstrous hulk that was nearing the water's edge. A fish wriggling in between a set of sharp teeth and one additional in each taloned... hand?

<"Catch."> Aero processed the translation just as two fish hit him square in the chest, fell to his lap, and started flopping around as if that might help them get back into their watery home.  
The third one he caught and _almost_ held onto. Slippery thing still had a little fight in it, even with those two neat semi circles of oozing punctures along... Why had the lake monster thrown fish at him?

Oh. Right. Because it was just Drago covered in lake bottom scum.  
And as he watched the Dragon flipping long strings of weeds from his wings, and wiping something slimy from his face, Aero realized the biggest reason he'd been so fooled by the accidental costume: A fiery set of eyes snapped open and met with his, as if already knowing exactly where they'd be.

If Drago'd had his eyes open, Aero wouldn't be sitting in the dirt, covered in fish scales and... Wow. That was a unique way to dry yourself off. Blow a cloud of hot air and walk through it. Aero never would have guessed that a workable way to go about it, but he enjoyed the visual of steam rising from the powerful, scaled upper body. Mesmerized as droplets became hissing puffs, wondering why Drago didn't do the same for his win- Right. He could just do _that_.

Now Aero was covered in fish scales _and_ half drenched in lake water. He wasn't going to complain though. Because seeing a Dragon beat its wings dry was something no living soul on Earth could say they'd done. Except for him. That was worth being a little soggy.

 

Not sure whether his lunch guest liked fish raw, Drago tossed them over so he could have first pick, and maybe go ahead and dig in if he was hungry. 

He always felt so much heavier after a catch in this lake. Was annoying. All those weeds weighing down his wings. He couldn't take off straight from the water surface, as he liked to if there was somewhere else he wanted to be. Had to stop and clean off first.

He glanced at Aero Star to make sure he'd gotten the fish, then finished shaking the last of the ick from his wingtips.

Though it felt a bit of a waste of time, since he couldn't take off and air dry, he blew some heat into the air and stood in it long enough that his scales wouldn't be in jeopardy of... growing mold or anything horrible along those lines.  
At least it was a comfortable waste of time. Nice and warm, unlike the deep of that lake. Reminded him of sunbathing. Mmm.

_Done_ with that, Drago walked forward and stared at the hopeless, unmoving lump that was his... friend. His hopeless friend.  
Just sitting there. Covered in dying fish. Belly no doubt empty. 

Drago shook his head, scooped up the least alive lake dweller, and showed Aero Star how it's done. Cooking and eating the entire thing slower than he usually would, for the one who's mouth had yet to close's benefit.  
Drago decided he wouldn't worry about that until drooling occurred. The poor thing was just impressed with his ability to catch his own food.

 

Drago reached out and scooped up a second fish, immediately after _consuming_ the first one. Which he'd charred until the scales shriveled and fell off, then slurped the thing, fins, bones, and all down like it was the most natural thing possible.  
Oh, now he was breathing fire on the second one. Making motions toward it as he did. No doubt trying to show Aero the **boiling point** of a freshwater fish's _eyeballs_. Both of which popped before the Dragon made a,  <"Done,"> motion and held it out towards... Oh. He'd been cooking that one for _him_? That was... really thoughtful.

<"Give,"> came the whispered translation. Startling Aero well enough that he noticed both the Dragon's hands were outstretched, one with an extremely dead fish, and the other waiting for an _almost_ dead one.

He picked up the floundering thing, tried not to drop it while putting it in Drago's waiting mitt, and accepted the piping... trout maybe?  
Then, knowing his technique would leave much to be desired, he started in on the unseasoned vertebrate. Glad that he'd always enjoyed fish and, now that he thought about it, rather happy about the thing having no eyes to stare up at him with. 

By the time he'd finished picking the well seared meat out from between the _innumerable_ bones along the dorsal aspect of the lunch item, Drago had cooked and sucked down the remaining feisty flipper. Leaving behind no evidence of his meal, save a small smattering of quickly crumbling charred scales littering the ground around his feet. And some fish oils on his- Nope. Never mind. He was licking that off as well.

Was that the only way Drago had to keep clean? He did a lot of licking his arms after all. Didn't licking scales hurt? Or was a Dragon tongue as industrial strength as the rest of its entire body?  
Aero got started picking through the jungle of bones that made up the rib cage area and figured he'd just have to ask sometime.

 

Drago also took his time eating his second fish, hoping his lunch mate might catch on that such soft, spongy bones were no match for the stomach acids of full grown meat eaters such as themselves. Hmm. _Was_ Aero Star fully grown? Had to be. All the proportions looked right. Probably.  
It was almost shocking though, how very inexperienced his friend seemed at _eating_ , of all things. Picking at the little fish instead of chomping it up and putting it away in his belly before it could cool down or get stolen by an annoying bird.  
Drago'd learned from that one. Not easy to catch one of those shrieking things if they got a head start on you.

Ignoring best he could the sad, sad display of ineptitude that was his guest's feeble attempts at feeding himself, he cleaned the last remnants of, mm, tasty, off himself and remembered something he'd been meaning to do.  
He waited until it looked like the fish in the extremely uncoordinated eating hands was more skeleton than food before asking for the other's attention.

 

Aero looked up at the <"Hey."> Musing that the voracious Dragon might be interested in his leftovers, he held the largely skeleton and 'icky bits' out. A tad surprised when the double handful was accepted, sniffed, then summarily tossed over one shoulder into the lake.  
Not hungry after all? 

Drago caught his attention again, then planted himself, feet practically making dents in the tough soil, and with a determined set to his scaled brow, proceeded to jab an extremely clawed finger seriously back and forth between the two of them. Making some novel sounds as he did that Aero figured would have been spelled something like; "Eeeyrrooo," and "Rrraaaghooo!"

Huh, that was funny. For a second there, those screeching growls sounded eerily famil-  
And then Aero's ears caught up to the whisper of the translator and his stomach did a backflip. Drago had **spoken**.

<"You, Aero Star? Me, Drago?"> The Space cadet could barely keep his mouth from gaping like one of those fish they'd just shared, but managed to muscle past the shock well enough to stutter out a reply.

"S-si, soy Aero Star. Y tu nombre es Drago!"  
<"Yes, me Aero Star. You.. Drago!">

<"Pleased."> Then the tiny Dragon gave a snort, did his 'pleased' wing ruffle once more, and dove backwards into the lake as if nothing **completely** out of the ordinary had just happened.

"Ai, Dios mío," said an Aero just this side of freaked _out_ of his skull. A protracted handful of seconds' passing though and he felt the utter shock melting into something much more pleasant: Pride.  
His newest friend, the _Dragon_ , was attempting to learn his- _their_ names! Maybe more! 

Who knew what beautiful, calculated, calculat _ing_ thoughts and physical gymnastics had gone into coaxing a Dragon throat to allow something so close to a human language pass the lizard's teeth?  
With any luck, Aero'd be gifted the opportunity to hear such attempts many, many times in the near future. After all; he _needed_ to experience his friend's new skill advance. 

Pondering what else the probably part hu- Yeah. Drago just _had_ to be part human. That adorable little humanoid, scale covered body, barely any taller than his own; and now _speaking_?  
Human!  
The only other non-human Earth creature Aero'd heard of that could speak human words were parrots, and Drago certainly didn't resemble _any_ of those.  
He was _worlds_ cuter than some feathery old bird anyway.

He sat himself by the water's edge, pondering again what more along the lines of what he'd just heard he might expect from the Dragon, one hand coming up to rub at his jaw. Then rubbing with some urgency as it felt what must have been a chunk of fish gizzard stuck to the underside. 

"Ew- Ah!" A preoccupied Aero flopped onto his back, surprised again at the appearance of a grotesque glop monster pulling itself up and out of the water along the bank. _Directly_ in front of him. Once again chucking fish square at his chest.

 

Over the next approximate half year, Aero Star made frequent visits to his Dragon friend, being shown and taught all _kinds_ of things one couldn't hope to learn in a classroom setting. Calling on him, at times, as close together as only a few days apart. Even if he wasn't scheduled for patrol in that particular sector.

Though, on occasion, work and duty did keep him away longer than he would have liked and could force visits as far back as an entire three weeks.  
When that happened, Drago always had something extra exciting or elaborate planned for their rendezvous. Once even taking Aero spelunking for funky blind fish and seeming rather surprised that he could pick his way around in the darkness. Sticking close and putting a gentle, clawed hand on him anytime the Dragon thought he might not be able to handle himself in the gloom.

He'd done alright on his own, but those shows of concern _almost_ made him wish his visor didn't come equipped with night vision. Almost. He didn't like stubbed toes.

 

Aero's next few patrols were set back to back on a different Earth continent, with no break to speak of in between. So when it was time for him to load his sorry, sad butt into his Space vessel and carry out his orders, he told Drago that it'd be a little while until he could come by again.  
He didn't miss the subtle -all of Drago's tells were becoming subtler the longer the Dragon had to get used to the whole 'communicating' thing- fall of his wings and upper body carriage. 

Wishing once again that he could squeeze in a day trip to see his scaled friend, but knowing full well that even possessing the technology necessary for interplanetary space travel, he had a job to do; the cadet looked on the positive side for a moment and pulled a genuine smile onto his face. For Drago's benefit as much as his own.

"No se preocupe. ¡Volveré y lo pasaremos muy bien!"  
<"Don't worry. I'll come back and we'll have a great time!">

Though not so pleased as the times Aero said he'd be by in a few days, the Dragon did his equivalent of a tiny smile and nodded. Then they each extended an arm and took hold of the other's, in a move they'd come to exchange in greeting and in fair wells.

"Yo... _Mmmeh_ diverrtirrrré.." Drago gave a snort followed by a furrowed brow and a litany of annoyed growls.

Aero squeezed the scaled forearm still beneath his hand, catching the attention of a frustrated friend.  
"No se frustrada. Lo estás haciendo bien,"  
<"Don't be frustrated. You are doing fine,"> he reassured. 

Drago relaxed and tried again. "Mmeh diverrtirré... plannneado..." He shut his eyes and finished the sentence in his native tongue. Which Aero would never begrudge him. Aero _liked_ his friend's native tongue. It sounded organic coming from someone who had wings and ate entire animals for dinner.  
<"I will have fun planned for then.">

"Ha! Bueno! Nos vemos entonces, Drago."  
<"Ha! Good! See you then, Drago.">

And the two gave each other's arm a squeeze, and flew home for the day. Both looking forward to the next time Aero Star would visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwe, Aero's gonna be away for so looong! How will the two survive!?  
> Guess they'll find a way!  
> Poor Drago may have a wait ahead of him, but the next chapter will be coming your way in no time flat! Till then,  
> ~Anonymous


	6. Aero Star's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aero's back in Mexico and _so_ ready for another visit with his buddy, the Dragon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heehee! Poor Aero's been away for quite some time. Hasn't he?

It'd been a while since Aero Star's last patrol in the area and he was looking forward to stopping in on his Dragon friend. See how he was doing, examine the newest additions to his bone collection and try to guess what animal they'd belonged to before Drago'd gotten a hold of them. You know: normal visit type stuff.

He flew to Drago's favorite sunbathing spot and landed without disturbing the loosely arranged nest shape the Dragon had managed to mold the rocks into. Guess that's what you get when a lizard his size curls up in the exact same few meter squared area over as many years as _he_ must have. It was a cute notion. Loyalty to a 'spot'.

"¡Drago!" Aero called, when his scent on the air alone didn't seem to be enough to call out his scaled friend. Actually, he was pretty sure that the sound of him flying in was usually all it took. Seeing as Drago was often already waiting for him when he arrived. Ready and eager to show Aero Star some of his special Dragon flying maneuvers, or even -and this wasn't Aero's favorite greeting- holding out a scrumptious dead rodent for the Space man. Thinking he'd be hungry after his flight in. Ostensibly anyway.

He stood a while, just enjoying the scenery. Peering far and away, out over the sun soaked valley on one side and the craggy, uneven, inhospitable wasteland-esque mountain range on the other.  
He had great difficulty believing that Drago actually _liked_ the place he called 'home', but it _did_ provide excellent natural camouflage for the guy, so who was he to judge. Actually, no. He was gonna judge. He didn't like the place and he felt that Drago could do _far_ better. Where? He wasn't sure, but if Drago ever became interested in listening to reason on the matter, he'd be more than happy to help the tiny Dragon relocate.  
The sooner the better really. 

"¿¡Drago?!" Hm. Maybe he'd come while the critter was out hunting? This was the same time he always arrived for a visit though, and he'd grown fairly certain that the meat eater reserved this time of day for sunbathing and generally 'being available for visits'. On the other hand, it _was_ getting on toward the colder months. Maybe Drago was the kind of reptile who boarded up for winter?  
Even if he was, winter was yet a ways off, and a true cold snap hadn't graced the province since the end of last winter. Aero knew. He'd checked. With his Space almanac. Standard issue.

"¡¿Draagooo, estas aqui!? ¿O estsas en ninguna parte?" He asked the latter in a morose, ground pointed mumble. Knowing that if the Dragon was out and about, or purposefully ignoring him, he could have quite the wait ahead of him. Though, why in God's name Drago might want to ignore him, he had no inkling. They got along with each other better than either of them got along with most other creatures, far as Aero Star knew.  
Drago hadn't tried to eat him but the one time, after all. That had to count for _something_.

He stood around, kicked some pebbles and little rocks over the edge of the precipice to watch them roll and clatter to the bottom, and did some stretching, while waiting for some kind of sign as to what his buddy could be up to. Before long he was moving on to wondering what his next move should be.  
A Dragon, even one as 'reasonable' as Drago, if Aero Star was remembering his ancient animal facts correctly, was an exceedingly territorial carnivore. Any infringement on a given Dragon's personal hunting grounds, let alone an intimate place such as a favorite sunbathing spot, or anywhere near a home base, was sure to be handled with extreme prejudice and with exceptional speed.  
Therefore, even if Drago was preoccupied with something, he'd be sniffing out the area as Aero pondered his absence. Drago was nothing if not diligent. Diligence was no doubt something he'd cultivated in the many long years he'd lived alone, as a defense against a world that'd moved on from the age in which his kin had walked the Earth. 

Or Aero was being overly dramatic and ridiculous and there was absolutely nothing wro-

"¡Draaagooo! ¡Consiga su trasero aqui!" Hehe. The guy wasn't _fluent_ in Spanish yet. He could yell practically anything and- Was that a growl?! Aero dropped to one knee, knowing his knee pads would keep him from any serious injury, and craned his head in the direction he thought he'd heard the whisper of a noise echo up.  
He gave it a full ten seconds before yelling another vaguely threatening sentiment, preceded by the unaccounted for one's name. This time _really_ hearing the echo of his own voice and realizing that the convoluted structure of those horrid peaks and crags would carry sound perhaps farther in any direction than the wind might across a smooth field. Impressive.

His echoed shout petered to nothing, his ears straining hard as they hadn't needed to since he'd taken the graduation exam for Cadette College, and still he received no return message. If this kept up he might need to call down his vessel and- There it was again! Faint as faint gets, and sounding as if it'd bounced quite a ways to reach him.  
That wasn't the call of a hunting _or_ a 'super annoyed you're interrupting this important Dragon business but coming anyway' Drago. That sound was unlike any he'd heard the mountain dweller make. 

There was no time to lose. So he jumped off the high jut, and impulsed himself in the direction of the fading echo. Hoping against hope that his friend was playing some sort of weird game or - _long_ shot- some 'it was funnier in my head' prank.  
Drago had a sense of humor once you got to know him a little. After a fashion. Though, his humor usually had more to do with arranging bones of disparate animals until you got some grotesque monstrosity in place of a pile of discarded toothpicks. Sometimes they even appeared anatomically plausible, despite having three completely different skulls and two full rib cages. The guy was an artist.

"¡Ahi!" He couldn't keep himself from exclaiming, even though he knew it would muddy the renewed sound he was tracking. Luckily it was a good bit stronger an echo now. Meant he was going in the right direction and- Now that he gave it a thought: this was the way to Drago's cave house!  
He had no way of knowing whether that should be cause for more intense concern or the factor that calmed his racing heart, but either way; there was no chance of him slowing now that he had an attainable destination in mind.  
Not even around those sharp turns leading up to Drago's 'front door'.

He cut the thrust and watched the floor for rocks as he came to an abrupt stop right inside the opening to the den like cave. Turning up the brightness of his chest piece in a way he knew Drago would ask him to do again and again and again if he'd seen it, he turned in sweeping motions as he advanced. Careful to peer deeply into every corner, remembering that his friend was practically the same color as the floor beneath his boots and could therefore easily be overlooked.  
He could be hiding on the ceiling, ready to pounce and land on him, doing his cheeky approximation of a human chuckle as Aero Star peeled himself off the cave floor.  
Wishful thinking, yes. But a Space man can hope. 

Hope to be mercilessly dropped on by the local ecosystem's apex predator? _Something_ was just plain off about this visit. 

That was when Aero Star found his friend. And in that moment; he would have given anything for his friend to have crushed the air out of him in some twisted attempt at a 'surprise!'. Because the scene before him was far worse than any injury such a misguided ploy may have caused him. He barely kept in a- a… it was hard to tell _what_ was trying to come out. A meal, a whimper, a feral- 

There was that growl again. Only now he had a picture to go along with the foreign sound.  
He sorely wished he didn't

"¿Drago?" No response. "Soy yo, Aero Star," he said, walking closer with care. Pleased when a great wing twitched at the sound, if not the words.

The proximity growing, every detail was thrown into starker relief and before he came within spitting distance, it became obvious that the Dragon curled in on itself near the posterior wall of his home cave, was sick.  
An unhealthy pallor had turned the skin and scales almost a chalky grey, and the main expanses of wing Aero could make out looked dry and brittle. As if the Dragon had not tasted water in days.

Speaking of 'not tasted in days', Aero thought, as he stooped behind his friend's back; didn't the Dragon usually walk around packing a _little_ more bulk than this?  
He lifted a shaky hand and laid it with as much care as he could force into it, on a patch of rib cage not covered up by a shielding wing.  
He nearly jerked it away at the temperature, hot as coals in a cooling fire pit, but his Space suit was equipped with gloves that covered the majority of his palms, so he didn't have to worry about burns.  
He _did_ pull away at the confirmation of his suspicion: Drago had lost a serious amount of weight. He could _see_ the ribs poking up beneath the skin, looking in the light of his chest piece more like the outline of fierce knuckles than healthy ribs.

What had happened? How could a- how could _Drago_ have deteriorated so suddenly into this painful to look at heap on his own floor? Had it been that long since Aero Star's last visit?  
He rocked back on his heels, collecting himself and giving a moment's thought to his schedule of late. 

Yes. It couldn't have been less than thirty Earth days since he and the tiny Dragon had raced each other to see who could reach the highest peak of the mountain range from a standstill on the ground without a running start first. He'd been in perfect condition then. He'd tied the Space Cadette for the love of-

That vocalization again! This time Aero Star was close enough that he could just make out the side of the Dragon's head, and along with it, the accompanying expression. 

They were noises of pain. And the guy didn't look aware enough to have been making them on purpose. How long had this been going on?!

"Drago, te voy a mirar. ¿Bueno?" Aero Star asked, standing and walking around to squeeze himself between the cool of the stone wall and the near furnace heat of his friend. "Necesito averiguar por qué estás enfermo," he explained, more to keep his mind busy than to inform Drago. A Drago who's breathing, he realized, was shallow and quick, and who's eyes were no longer completely shut.  
"¡Drago!" Came out as en excited whisper, not wanting to spook the life out of the sick Dragon. 

In answer, the eyes opened a sliver wider and sought for his face, reflecting light back at Aero Star when they caught on the chest piece's artificial glow. He turned down the intensity just a hair, and repeated his friend's name, hoping to coax him awake enough that he could help him in diagnosing the problem.  
The horned head raised itself an inch or so off the ground and the eyes found the face behind the light source. The pupils seemed to be reacting acceptably, but the sheen and red tinge to the irises and sclera -what little of them were visible- was definitely not normal.  
Drago's mouth opened and he drew in a deeper breath, as if prepping for some form of verbal communication. Instead, his head thunked to the stone floor and the extra air left him in a soft whoosh, followed by more panting.  
He didnt have the energy to say, "Llegas tarde." Which is, for some reason, what Aero Star imagined he'd want to.

"¿Drago," the eyes trained on him again, "estás herido?" He received one of the smallest nods he'd ever been gifted and felt both dread and hope smash against each other in his stomach at it.  
Positive side: Drago was present enough to hear him and answer basic questions. For how long though, was a query for which an answer, he would happily wait.  
"¿Dónde?" The cat like eyes slid towards the ground and for a second, Aero Star worried his stomach into a tight ball of anxiety, thinking that the reptilian had lost consciousness. After a second or two, the meaning behind the movement set in, and Aero found himself readying a nearly emaciated Dragon to be rolled onto his other side, away from the wall.  
He pulled the wing Drago had been using to shield himself from… who knows what, up above the laid out one's head. Then, with great care, he pushed on both a far too bony shoulder and hip until he had the seemingly helpless _Dragon_ on his back.  
Giving Drago a moment to catch his breath, he studied the pinched yet slack face, finding evidence of either puke or blood in a dried streak of black starting at the newly revealed half of his mouth and continuing… into a small stain on the floor.  
He _really_ hoped it wasn't blood. 

He gave the rest of his friend's front a once over and found what he'd expected: He was going to have to roll him some more.

"Una vez más." He promised, getting fingers under the second set of too bony shoulder and hip, and pulling until Drago was one hundred eighty degrees to how he'd found him.  
He found some resistance when the wing Drago had been _laying on_ didn't want to move any farther out of the way than even with the shoulder joint, so he moved it straight out in front, then moved back against the wall to see what could possibly have-

Aero Star's gulp was audible. Yep. That'd do it. 

There was a wound the length of a grown human's pinky finger approaching the lower, outer edge of Drago's left shoulder blade, _underneath_ where a wing would normally be covering, except that he'd lifted it to inspect the area. Seeing as the rest of him looked relatively uninjured.

Aero Star had seen wounds like that before… but where? Oh, yes! Back when he'd lived on la finca familia, a hunter had passed through every now and again, shopping freshly dead animals and the occasional jerky.

He'd been a bow hunter, which was how Aero knew with certainty that _this_ was an arrow wound.  
By the looks of it, puffy, oozing, and a vibrant, angry color when set next to Drago's drained physic; it was infected and had been given the opportunity to fester.  
But, how had an arrow gotten _underneath_ one of Drago's wings like that? In the sky, Aero Star doubted anyone could hit him if he didn't want them to.  
Uh-oh.

Aero Star let out a sound of disgust when he reached for the corresponding stretch of wing and his fingers poked right through. "Dios mío," he said, a gauntleted forearm covering his mouth to help him keep down his most recent meal.  
What barbarism! Someone had _shot_ his friend- Someone had **shot _Drago_** ! Why? The Dragon didn't go near human civilizations! 

Completely separate from that: How had he gotten back here after that? Aero was pretty sure that the only way to get to this cave was by flying and he wasn't ready to believe that this sick little Dragon had found it in himself to power through an _arrow_ through the wing and into the shoulder, and **fly** back to home base!  
And for what? The poor guy didn't have medicine, not that _Aero_ knew of, and there was no one else waiting for him back at home. So what, aside from this place being _home_ had pulled someone who had a _hole_ through one wing, however far away, back to _here_ of all places?  
And Aero Star was pretty sure, by the fraying and fine tears around the edges, making the piercing in the wing larger than it could possibly have been to start with, that Drago _had_ flown on it. 

"¿Qué pasó, mi amigo?" He asked of someone he didn't think had the ability to answer. "¿Y qué hacer?" He asked of his long years of training and every book he'd read through his Cadette classes. Particularly the bits about _not_ interfering with the natural order of ecosystems or in the occurrence of natural disasters. 

Yes, save people and creatures if you can or must, but in general; if the mountain wants to spew lava, that's nature. And they weren't meant to mess too much with nature. Neither were they supposed to show off advanced technology to native peoples who weren't anywhere near the point in their societal development to understand.  
They didn't like the kind of panic calls of, "¡Brujería!" had the track record of creating.  
That's one reason they all parked they're vessels out of sight, high above the cloud cover. Or in front of the sun. Whichever was more workable.

Aero was struggling with this one, all the worse because he hadn't needed to work out a similar problem before, _and_ there was no one else to ask whether his personal feelings in the matter were messing with his judgment.  
Sure, Space folks were allowed to make friends all over the Cosmos -that was a much better idea than spreading enemies throughout the stars-, but you were expected to keep your job, your integrity, and a clear head above all else.  
A Patroller couldn't let flash in the pan friendships throw them off course. What if something they were really needed for went down while they were busy helping out one, single, arguably insignificant life? 

"Aye… Row..." His attention came back from a lecture series on ethics he'd elected to take in his last year of Cadette College, back to the present, and the worst position he'd found himself in since that same year of College when someone had thought it'd be funny to plant contraband in his school bag.  
Not funny. They got caught.  
His eyes snapped down to the upturned face of the first friend he'd made in quite some time. The first other he'd met who really seemed to _get_ him.  
Drago's eyes were clearer now, and his gaze was intent, looking nowhere but straight into Aero Star's visor. 

Aero wanted to put a hand on him and tell him everything would be okay, but he wasn't sure where he could put a hand without causing his friend more pain. So he just kept his eyes locked with the pair that always resembled the sun, even in the gloom of the Dragon's dinky cave, and tried to suss what his friend was trying to communicate. Drago'd _spoken_. That meant it was something _important_.

Even through another whimpered growl, Drago's eyes didn't budge. Intently studying the face of the first friend _he'd_ made in… And the _only_ being similar to himself that he'd met in his life.  
Trying to express how grateful he was to have met someone who cared about his well being and who he had come to care for in return, through his eyes alone.  
He had no reserve energy to draw on, he'd used that to say Aero's name.

"¿Drago?" Aero Star asked, trying to keep the desperation from coming through. He'd watched as those eyes had lost their focus and closed and that time; he'd caught the scaled head before it could hit the hard floor. Was Drago unconscious, or...  
He could still hear that shallow breathing, as soon as the panic left his ears.

That protracted 'last look' had told him all he needed to know. Drago had dragged himself, however far it had been, tooth, nail, and busted up wing, all the way up the mountain and back to his home… Because he knew Aero Star would come. Eventually.  
Whether the poor, sweet little Dragon had been expecting help or just a friendly face to see him off- Aero Star had to bite his lip **hard** to keep it from quivering.  
The wetness in his eyes though, he had no control over.

"La ayuda está aquí, mi..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Nor could he hold in the sob which cut it off.  
He was going to make this up to Drago. He knew the wound and torn wing weren't in any way his fault or doing… But if he'd visited sooner, things wouldn't be so dire. That look Drago had pinned him with, wouldn't have been necessary… Because the poor guy wouldn't have thought he was dying. Wouldn't have been giving his precious last seconds as a gift to his-  
Yeah, no more tears. Time to _do_ something about it.

Aero Star had made up his mind the moment he'd stumbled upon his friend alone in the dark. It had just taken him a while to realize it.  
No matter the potential repercussions: He was going to save the last of the Dragons' life. The life of his… dear friend.

Aero Star, feeling like a heartless jerk while he did, hoped that Drago didn't regain consciousness for a while. He _really_ didn't want his friend waking up disoriented and in pain, flailing around and making it altogether an extreme feat of athleticism and strength to get him out of this cave, above the mountain, and into his Space vessel. Which he was instructing to meet them at the safest distance possible; _also_ not wanting the engines to disturb the shale and cause a supremely deadly avalanche.

The man from the Cosmos reached out and with the strength of his demi-Titan heritage, arranged a sleeping dragon into a bundle and lifted the far too hot creature into his insulated embrace. Then he walked himself and his double armfull to the cave entrance, and took off far more smoothly than was his habit. Aiming for the house sized, shining metal vehicle not some two hundred feet above.  
He glanced down at Drago's head, resting against his shoulder, horns not stabbing him at all through the sturdy Space suit. He looked paler out in the light of the miday sun, but maybe the brief exposure would trickle charge his batteries. Just a bit.

"Todo estará bien," he promised out loud. Because everything _was_ going to be fine. He'd make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I did _not_ see that coming. Poor... **both** of them!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter. It'll be up soon!  
>  ~Anonymous


	7. The Bad Luck Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What in the world happened while Aero Star was away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A peek at the kind of mischief a full grown Dragon can get themselves into:

Food had been scarce. Scarcer than he'd seen in _quite_ some time, and he'd learned not to over hunt any given area since then. Spread your wings and pick things off evenly, so they don't abandon their habitat entirely.

This was over a week of nothing but _seeing_ the occasional snake, which slithered out of reach by the time he got there, or a ground squirrel head popping out and back into its hole.  
Stupid squirrels were near impossible to scrounge out of those holes. He couldn't even smoke them out most times, because the smoke just filtered up through all the other holes! Dumpy things were all _connected_.

So he conserved energy and glided across the plains in search of bigger game, finding nothing but disappointment after disappointment. After another five days of finding nothing, not even a fawn, he knew he was going to have to widen his search. 

He was going to have to venture someplace he hadn't visited in over a decade. A place dotted in little fluffy white animals, all happily grazing, not a care in the world.  
A place of great danger. Or at least, it _smelled_ that way; the updrafts reaching Drago at least an entire hill away, almost causing the Dragon to lose his nerve and turn back. Knowing that whatever danger smelled like that, couldn't be good for one's health.

But in the end, hunger won out in the battle against bodily needs and safety. He circled the place twice, from a great height. Trying to acclimate past the disturbing smell and instead get a good whiff of the fluffy creatures all ruminating peacefully; completely unaware that that funny little dot in the sky spelled doom for one unlucky of their number.

Circling lower, he muscled his olfactory system around well enough to pick out the fuzzy, musty scent of the creatures below.  
Mm. Most of them smelled healthy too.  
This was going to be _good_.

Drago chose one plump looking creature and swooped down in a perfect Spinebusting Elbow Drop. It didn't make a sound. Just crumpled under the impact.  
He bet Aero Star would have liked the execution on that one.

Strangely enough, none of the nearby fuzzies took off running. Or seemed the least but perturbed by the Dragon in their midst.  
_Weird_.

He picked the creature off the grass by the scruff, enchanted by the sight of a few bones poking through its furry back, helping stain the white hairs a tempting red.  
Though he knew the smartest thing he could do was take off _that moment_ and be done with the place immediately; his hunger was starting to tell his wings what to do louder than the warning bells in his head were.  
Suddenly needing a drink **badly** , he pulled the four legged creature close and breathed deep the smell of its oozing blood, savoring the novel scent.  
Giving the fuzzy food bag a squeeze, he lapped up a sizable few mouthfuls of its uniquely bouqueted life juice and, 'Mm'. After twelve days without food, it was bliss! Excusing all that fur getting in the way.

Finally slackening his thirst, he got his head unburied from the pelt, readjusted his hold on the delicious soon to be meal, and bunched his muscles for take off.

The moment before his first downbeat, he thought he heard the ghost of a whistle. Then, halfway through said beat, he heard a rip- _thunk- **snap**_ and his left hand lost its grip strength.  
The creature slipped from his grasp as he took on his first leap of altitude and he heard another whistle coming his way. He rolled in the air and a projectile missed him by feet, whizzing by fast enough that he only made out a shaft and a few trailing feathers.

More so than the obvious attempts at his life, what made Drago not turn and go back for the easy pickin's he'd just scored, was the wild, angry hollering. Coupled with the smell- the _stench_ of the place, something deep in his instincts yelled at him to move and don't look back. He wouldn't like what he'd see.

He flew as fast as he could, goaded on by the sense of imminent danger, gifted the power to push through a burgeoning pain by adrenaline and it's canceling effect towards anything but pure fight or flight.  
Compensating the whole time for his left wing and it's sudden inability to scoop air the way he was used to it doing.

It felt like something had torn his wing, which would be congruent with the sound he had heard while crouched over that positively delicious smelling ruminant. The ruminant he'd been forced to leave behind.  
The farther he flew, the more obvious it became that his progress was slowing. Where he usually built up speed, his whole left side was now dragging him towards the ground. Begging for a break and telling him incessantly that something was **wrong**.

He did his best to ignore the nay sayers and fly true. Which worked perfectly until about halfway home, when the Dragon belatedly realized that the feeling of condensation against the back of his arm was, in actual fact: his own blood.  
That was when he started listening to what his body was trying to tell him.

Hello? Oh, there you are! Yeah, um, not much to say really. Just a couple things worth mentioning: Uh, first off, haven't had anything to eat in a while. Getting pretty hungry. Starting to dip into reserves.  
Yeah. Second, there's something the matter with that wing there. Feels like- now don't go gettin' all freaked out, but we're pretty sure there's a hole in it. Yep, it's gettin' bigger too.  
Then thirdly, you got something stuck in your shoulder. Kinda deep. Rippin' up against some important _flying_ muscles. Might wanna walk a ways?

He didn't like listening to his body all that much. It never had anything he wanted to hear to say. Not even on _good_ days.  
Drago did take into consideration the fact that the ripping feeling in his wing was indeed not showing any signs of stopping, and that he was beginning to flag; his chest heaving with the effort expended just keeping himself airborne and forward moving.

At this point though, he did not imagine taking a break to walk a field or two would be smart. Not bleeding the way it felt he was.  
Anything smelling weakness, if there was anything around _to_ smell such a thing, would be far more likely to try and eat him than to lay down and offer up their hide for his lunch.  
The thought of being attacked by even a wild dog in this state was... unpleasant, to say the least. 

Besides all that; the way his energy was leaking away faster than that trickle of liquid dripping off his fingers, he'd be hard pressed to get himself back in the air if he touched tierra sólida long enough to catch his breath.  
This needed to be a non stop flight. Clear through to his front door. Otherwise... he might not make it home at all. 

His chances of dying or being eaten were higher out in the open, so home was the only good option.  
He nodded, his mind set. Trying to keep thoughts of his scattered and sun bleached bones being discovered by Aero Star some indeterminate date in the future **out** of his mind.  
Dying out on the plains, he'd be lucky to still _have_ bones to be found come a week from then.  
In his home, if he _did_ end up dying, there was a far lesser chance of anything making away with bits of his skeleton. 

Aero Star was coming for a visit within the next few days, right? The guy couldn't seem to stay away for long, and he'd said something about coming back for 'patrol' anyway. Though, not exactly how long from then he should be expected.  
Maybe Aero knew how to patch up a hole in a wing? Or a shoulder; considering he _had_ those. 

By the time his mountain came into view, Drago was well through any second wind he'd been able to scrounge up and running on empty. His face caught in an unwavering grimace and the hand on the end of his good arm clenched as tightly as it would go.  
He was also panting, something he almost never resorted to -seeing as it dried your mouth out _real_ fast-, unable to fully re-oxygenate.

The pain; he was ignoring. He couldn't remember the exact incident in the moment, but he'd felt worse at some point in his life, so this wasn't as bad as it could get. As it _might_ get.  
But ignoring the pain didn't make it go away. No, it was affecting his every move, with every wing beat being stunted more than the last, and all the muscles along his back getting ready to seize up and make him fall from the sky. 

He reached the top of the ridge and landed only a hundred or so yards from his sunbathing place. Less grace in the descent than his weakened body could deal with, so by the time his feet hit the rocky mesa like ridge, his wings were practically pinwheeling and he overbalanced hard enough to lay himself out _flat_. 

He laid there, as he'd splashed down, doing nothing but pulling lungful after lungful until his vision cleared from black to, 'wow, bright sun today'.  
This was close enough for now. He could use a quick sunbath.

 

The Dragon woke as the sun was winking its last, already sunk behind the horizon and relinquishing its job of lighting the sky to its friends, moon, and twinkly stars.  
He made to jump to his feet, not remembering having fallen asleep, but found even lifting his head off the rock covered surface to be an exercise in torture.  
He made it to a seated kneel, left arm- left _side_ stiff and tight and altogether excruciating to bend or flex.

He never should have gone in for that landing.

Knowing the place better than any other creature alive, Drago knew a vantage point along the border from which it was nearly a straight shot to his front door. If he could get his feet under him, it wasn't too far to walk.

Walk he did. Slowly stretching feelings other than just pain, agony, and overwork back into the appendages he'd be needing for the glide.

Standing on the precipice, night vision ready but not quite necessary yet, he told himself that he'd made this exact jump so many times before that it would be much harder for him to fail than for instinct to take over and help him home.  
A loud pang from his left _side_ when he raised himself to full height, prepping for takeoff, did nothing to calm the thought that he could end up a smear on an unforgiving wall. If his trajectory was thrown off hard enough by the drag of air passing _through_ one wing.

Time to live freely, or die hard.  
He gave it the best jump he could muster, extended his wings in a ridged 'glide' posture, and banked the turn and sharp descent best he could. Gritting his teeth and feeling genuine worry over the sound his torn wing was making; a strange vibrating flap as if of tiny bats, taking off from their disturbed family nap. 

Rounding the last turn, the thought that this could be his last ever flight hit him hard in the chest. He tried to savor the sensation of being airborne, but found every ounce of concentration instead devoted to making this landing _not_ the one that finally breaks his neck.

He lived. With some talent to spare and just enough extra adrenaline to get him over to the spring of fresh water that bubbled from a secret hole on the mountain floor, none too far from his house.  
Standing from his 'drinking water crouch', a spell of dizziness informed him that the burning wound on his shoulder had reopened. No doubt during the glide down from the outer wall's edge.  
At least the trickle of blood was slower- _much_ slower now. At that rate, he wasn't likely to die of blood loss.

Figuring he should minimize the chances of something coming by to gnaw on him in his sleep, Drago stooped just enough to fill his good hand with water and wiped away most of the blood that was drying to the back of his arm.  
Once more and he was good. He wasn't sure anything in the area recognized the smell of Dragon's blood anyway, it being a rare thing indeed that he should shed even a drop. Better safe than sorry. 

Cleaned up and more tired than he'd felt in years, he shambled back to the entrance to his house, stumbled inside, started up his 'Mm, warm rocks', and collapsed in a heap an arm's reach away.  
At least he wasn't going to freeze. Though, in reality, the weather hadn't turned quite that serious yet.  
He wondered once more why it was that all of his normal food animals had disappeared. Uncharacteristic of the loyal mammals, especially so early in the year; the cold season barely having _threatened_ to start.

 

Morning came, Drago woke to find he was indeed still alive, and that his injuries were indeed still there. Figured.

Again, peeling himself off the ground was an exercise in both diligence and perseverance. Add to the mix his waning sense of balance and the growing pit in his stomach; you got a pretty concerned Dragon.  
One who's hope of finding food was dwindling, but who's will to survive was holding strong. After all: even if Aero Star's 'job' -Drago was still a bit... doubtful such a thing as 'jobs' could exist- somehow prevented him from lending a hand, which would be double weird, he needed to see him again.  
The Dragon needed to spend more time with the first friend who'd ever seen more than a good hunting buddy in him.  
He'd made an arrangement with a pack of buzzards, back when he was around half his current age. They taught him to ride updrafts; he lent them his claws. Win-win.

Aero Star was different. He wasn't a buzzard, to start with. More like a flying fish but... even _more_ like Drago himself. But **definitely** not the same.  
The guy had no wings, and his face was basically just a mouth. But he also possessed a spirit which Drago had thought impossible to find in another living creature. He'd shown this Dragon, who'd thought he was happy with his allotment, that there was _more_ to life than what he had.  
He could share it with another. Brand new concept there.

He held out hope that Aero might know what to do about injuries such as the ones he could feel sucking the spark out of him. Hour by hour.  
He did his best to keep water going into him, but the distance to his private watering hole seemed to stretch farther and farther with every visit.  
Didn't help that his body was warming up. Like there was a wild fire inside of him, picking up steam, and it had started at that burning, _lancing_ wound he didn't have a hope of reaching well enough to do... Do _what_ about? The most he knew about healing wounds was that you lick them to make sure they don't get worse. Keep 'em clean.

Though he was pretty sure he also couldn't do anything about the damage sustained by his wing, he could at least _see_ it. Kind of wished he couldn't. Being pretty sure that that jagged, day old tear wasn't going to knit itself back together,  
If anything; he could see it catching on things and getting _bigger_.  
He had at least one unpleasant dream wherein exactly that happened, followed by both his wings falling off and him turning into a pig. Who he and Aero Star ended up eating. 

Aero Star. Would he be visiting soon? 

 

By the third night, he was plenty warm without the help of his central air and so didn't bother with the rocks at all. Choosing instead to lay, a loose approximation of spread eagle in the middle of his floor, hoping he wouldn't need to move an inch until noon the next day.  
His lethargy only built from there, making his trips to the spring fewer and farther between and his attempts at finding any sort of food vanish entirely.

Food was nowhere to be found, and he couldn't afford to waste precious spurts of lucid energy on such a fruitless venture as looking for it.  
At one point, he breathed a little fire on a scorpion who was trying to sting him and had a tasty snack, but aside from that: Nothing.  
Instead, most of his time was spent wondering whether he was awake or just dreaming. By that point, conscious or not, no matter how he arranged his body, the pain radiating through his side had become constant.

 

The Dragon told the supposed passing of days by the rolling of dark to light and light to dark. He lost count of course, not being able to tell how many of each when he couldn't even tell awake from asleep, but he tried.  
It was definitely more than one. And fewer than... well, he hadn't starved to _death_ yet, so probably not that many.

 

Aero Star was late, he decided, finding himself at least half conscious, wondering what that funny taste on his tongue was. Maybe he'd bitten the inside of his mouth? Who could say? All he knew was that his body had stopped pestering him about much at all and he'd just woken from the best rest he'd gotten in days.  
Why'd he woken? Instead of letting himself slip softly off into that waiting darkness? Oh, right. Because that hallucination sounded like-

"¿Drago?" Yeah, sounded _just like_ Aero Star.  
He managed to pry his eyes open, wanting to see this wonder of- It wasn't his imagination. Aero Star was _really_ there! He could feel the familiar hands pawing ineffectually at his expiring body. Could pick out the worry in those reassuring words he was having difficulty understanding.

Then he was rolling, the rock floor no longer doing what it could to cool his burning... Aero Star needed to know something. 

He used his last crumb of energy, a morsel he hadn't known was still laying around, to say his friend's name. The only sentient being's name he'd ever learned.  
Aero needed to know... Drago couldn't muster any more words, so he relied on his eyes to communicate as much as they could.

When he caught the recognition on that familiar, funny, _sad_ face; he knew he'd done all he could do. His head fell into a pair of hands he'd come to think of as special and his last thought was of regret. Regret that he'd left Aero Star so soon after they'd met.

He'd let down his... Aero Star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, more than 'mischief'. Wow. 
> 
> Guess I better hurry up and publish the next chapter!  
> ~Anonymous


	8. Aero Star, M.D.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wondered what the inside of Aero Star's Space home looks like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready folks. Time to Doctor up!

Aero Star read the readout on his healing station. Thankful that even though he almost never needed to use it, he had been trained _how_ to and, better still, _remembered_ how.  
Also he was thankful that the thing was made with the physique of full fledged Space Titans in mind, because otherwise: Drago and his giant bat wings would never have 'fit' on it.

Dehydration. Malnutrition. Aero had been right: It had been _days_ since Drago had gotten any water into himself. Difficult to tell how long since his last meal though. Also a while ago. By the computer's estimation, and he agreed with it, Drago had lost nearly a fifth of his body weight since last they'd met. Aero gave himself another mental kick for… doing his jo- No. For not visiting sooner. He knew Drago loved his visits, yet he'd put this one off- not by long, but it was more than apparent that in _this_ instance, every day **counted**. 

Insufficient resources for optimal healing or naturally occurring replacement of lost blood. 

Fever. Infection. And, oh yes! A minor detail, nearly got lost in all the hubbub: There was still a sliver of the arrowhead lodged in the guy's flying muscles. 

Wow. Thanks for saying that right up front, computer! Imagine if this were a life or death situation and you kept that to yourself? Who'd programmed this thing's priorities? Seriously!

Double checking the program's calculations for oxygen to painkiller ratio, Aero Star slipped a little plastic mask over Drago's mouth and nose, and busied himself waiting for the aerosol medication to take effect.  
The both of them fully sterilized as they'd entered through the airlock, Aero didn't need to worry about germs and additional chances for infection happening from this point on. So he started up the skin and the blood synthesizers each with a tiny, fresh sample of the corresponding organic matters. 

The on board system had never been called upon to extrude a skin graft _quite_ like the one it was being asked to now, but it made sure to inform the one pushing the commands, that it was _more_ than up to the challenge. "Same," said the thing already beginning to trickle freshly created hemoglobin into its hermetic, 'for immediate use' storage chamber.  
The life giving, platelet laden liquid appeared an off color to Aero's admittedly untrained eyes, but he wrote that off as Drago being different from anything he'd ever seen before and trusted in the fully up to date synthesizer's parameters to get it right. Otherwise...

That seen to, the Space Cadette spent precious seconds listening to the soft pulsing of the heart and respiration monitor, glad that the beat was consistent and didn't seem to be catching anywhere. Dehydration can do nasty things to pretty much every organ a body needs for _functioning_ , seeing as most bodies are comprised pretty heftily of that stuff known as H2O. Necessary for most forms of life known to the Cosmos.

Twitching himself back into action, he grabbed a cuff that had thin tubes leading into one side of the blood machine, slid it over Drago's hand and secured it above the wickedest of the Dragon's forearm spikes, just about in the crook of the elbow. Happy indeed that the cuff delivery system was designed with extreme emergency situations taken into consideration and therefore, was perfectly capable of dumping huge amounts of newly synthesized, perfectly duplicated blood straight into a needy vein, _through_ a standard issue Space Suit. Which was reinforced through the forearm, resembling Drago's scales in toughness.  
As long as the batch of replacement plasma and accompanying goodies was as complimentary to the Dragon's needs as the advertisement assured; it would feed just fine into the patient's arm and everything was going to be **fine**. 

A 'Ding' caught his attention so that he stopped staring at the progress the hard at work synthesizer was displaying.  
Accepting the hank of soft, supposedly unbreakable cord supplied by an overzealous 'medical accessories' chute, he unfolded the bundle to find the cord was arranged in the shape of some strange sort of harness. Next down the chute was a scrap of paper with a diagram of him affixing the contraption around the uninjured of Drago's wings. The reverse side showed what would eventually happen if he didn't take the suggested course of action; many important things being tossed around, broken, or knocked over by an errant 'not used to being confined to bed' gesture.

Though Aero knew it was likely to cause knots in the poor wing's muscles if it stayed that way too long, he lent over, picked the trailing half off the floor, _very_ carefully arranged the entire thing into the smallest folded position it could feasibly sustain, and slipped the harness around it. Just like in the diagram.  
As little as he wanted to, he finished the job off by securing the 'safety' buckles running down one side, well warned of the possible damage the malnourished wing could even _accidentally_ cause to his delicate medical birthing.

He gave the fresh bundle a pat, then one more for good measure, and-

Another 'Ding' pulled him away: If it was another harness he swore- oh. Hm, instructions for how to put to use what was coming down next. 

First _was_ a harness, but smaller and only to restrict the last third or so of the left -and injured- wing. It was also made of a flexible mesh and had a length of cord at a top corner, ending in a loop which was to be hanged from an overhead 'medical station' hook usually reserved for… hm. He wasn't sure whether that hook had been there before. Oh, it also had the same from a bottom corner, to be affixed to an eye hook right under the table's edge.  
Yeah. That one definitely hadn't been there before. 

That done with, Aero plucked the next item from the chute: a little package containing medical tools he'd never thought he'd need to use. Hoped he'd never _need_ to use. But the instructions had been clear, if a tad graphic, and had shown him with detail to spare, exactly what he was required to do next. 

He set down and rolled out the assortment of forceps, scalpels, and… Looked like Aero Star was going to trade in his Cadette helmet and visor for a medical grade particle mask and a pair of magnifying goggles. The kind with a little light between the brows.  
It'd been a long time since he'd been required to play dress up, and he was having difficulty imagining this time would be any more fun than it was for the graduation exam. And that time hadn't been fun at all.

Trading out his 'mask', if you will, for the new accoutrements, he followed those with the shucking of his gauntlets and shoved his hands into the skin tight gloves he'd seen very few individuals sport. Mostly Doctors and cleaning staff. Also chemists. 

The instructions propped against Drago's close side, Aero bided for time by listening to the now surprisingly relaxed breathing sounds of his Dragon friend. The painkillers must have kicked in in earnest. Which gave him exactly zero reasons why he shouldn't get started immediately. The instructions were pretty clear about the ramifications of skipping out on these steps. Such as: The light sepsic infection - ** _Sepsis_**!?- Drago was suffering from could easily be pushed over into Septic shock, leading to death. Or, that wing could become unsuitable for the nifty, way of life saving skin graft the fabricator was nearly done churning out. Drago'd never fly again if he couldn't accept the new webbing. Or, he'd better not _try_.

Aero knew there was no way around this. The machines were some of the most advanced in the fleet, but without a certified remote Physician on the other end of a pre-scheduled professionally set up… set-up: the only thing to do was go manual.  
Besides; he didn't technically have the okay to bring the Earthling onto his ship, let alone secure the highly sought after help of a top level Cosmic surgeon on… two minutes notice.

Double and triple checking with the readout, making _sure_ he wasn't about to stick anything inside an infected wound on a _conscious_ patient's back, Aero Star began his first foray into the field of applied medical sciences. Outside of a classroom setting. On a creature far removed in anatomy from any dummies on which the class had been forced to practice their 'butchery', as the kids called it.

He'd seen butcher's shops in the nearby pueblos of his home valley. He knew better than the other kids just how similar the two vocations could sometimes appear.  
He **really** didn't want to make a butcher's job of this particular… 'endeavor'.

He grabbed up the appropriate forceps and made quick work of removing the arrow sliver from the hiding place where it had nestled itself, likely well over an entire Earth week previous.  
Yikes. Having a fair sized shard of _sharp_ rock stuck in a place you couldn't possibly reach to remove it... Must have been a living hell. 

Aero Star shivered as he plunked down the offending invader, still stuck in the grip of the locking forceps, in the 'nasty things' receptacle the chute had also thought to provide. The thing had been frightfully close to the shoulder blade too. He shivered once more, this time at the unwanted thought of _thankfully_ absent bone infection. 

Goaded on by all the unpleasantness, Aero wasted no time spraying the now clear wound with Space antibiotics and covered it with a patch of self adhesive medical gauze.

He shook his head and took a bolstering breath.  
Next step.

He peeled and stuck an adhesive leaf of tracer paper with a corresponding picture to the jagged tear in the inner section of the suspended wing. It came equipped with a dotted line encircling the entirety of the damaged tissue, looking altogether like far too much to be excising from a living creature's main means of locomotion.  
Drago prided himself on his power of flight, and his flying prowess. The guy was a straight up _daredevil_ , for the love of-

Aero paused, halfway through the first long pass, worried he'd seen a twitch in the membrane of his injured friend's wing.  
The readout informed him that it had been involuntary and that there was need for an extra measure of muscle relaxant, as the recommended dose for a vertebrate of this size and weight was turning out not quite 'sufficient'. 

He gave the _small_ addition the 'Okay' and watched the mask on Drago's face fog with the in and out of his forge worthy breath. Strangely transfixed, he stood there, a slightly used scalpel in one hand, and resisted the urge to blink as he monitored the aerosol medication which was still taking effect. 

An appropriate amount of time elapsed, the readout suggested poking the area before digging back in. No reaction, he went back to work and had the entire damaged section of membrane out of the way, folded up, and added to the growing pile in the 'nasty things' receptacle as swiftly as he safely could. 

He tried and succeeded at _not_ being sick at the sight of all those spider web like blood vessels and veins he'd had to cut through in order to do that part of the job. Made easier by the low power medical force field pushing in on different pulse points in Drago's wing, precluding the delicate veins from bleeding all over the place.  
That would have been a nightma-

'Ping', said the dermal printer, calling over the 'attending physician', who picked up the 'fresh off the stove tortilla' levels of hot, far healthier than most of the wing, section of membrane as soon as the indicator light gave the 'all clear'.

Considering he didn't have the steady hands of a physician, he couldn't be _too_ careful. He could be too scared, but not too careful.  
With his own, unqualified digits, he double took at the arrows **printed** right onto the graft -indicating up, down, left, and right with the help of little letters- and fitted the fresh flesh the right way around into the gaping hole he'd helped create in his adventure buddy's wing.

The magic of modern Cosmic science took over from there. Innervation took place in minutes, as little severed veins knitted themselves up with their brand new counterparts and were allowed to start eking blood through once again whole pathways. Slowly of course.  
The medical force field backed off the PSI _slowly_ , but was programmed to get blood pumping back where it was supposed to be as soon as was possible.  
Except in the hypothetical situations where something needed to be lopped off for good. It had different parameters for that, which would thankfully _not_ be needed in this instance. 

Far from nominal, but well on the way to mended, it was time to do something that _wouldn't_ make the only 'medic' around gag.  
He plucked a hand held dermal extruder from the rolled out pack and switched it to the 'receiving instructions from the larger, smarter unit' setting, and ran it along every newly butted up seam across the planes of the inner most section of Drago's poor, abused wing. 

If Aero had any say in the matter, which he should, being the physician and all, there would be no flying done on that appendage for at least... until _both_ those wings looked as healthy as the shiny new graft did! 

He futzed around his house, doing odd things he usually put off for a free day, in between rounds of dermal layering and checking in with the healing station. Temperature dropped before he'd applied a fourth coat, a good sign that the antibiotics were doing their accelerated job, and Drago's very color improved by the... quarter hour maybe?

Aero was just happy that his friend was assured a continuation on this precious game known as life. Regardless what cards he might have been dealt, had Aero Star not plopped into his life when he had.  
Or, when Drago had bombed him mercilessly out of the sky and barely _not_ eaten him? Whichever rolled of the tongue better, he supposed.

When the transfusion was finished, and definitely not in danger of being rejected, Aero let the machine go into a well deserved deep cleaning cycle, asking that it please remain on standby throughout. It blinked a green light in acknowledgment.  
Polite unit.

The machine was thoughtful enough to start up some concentrated nutrients in a hydration concoction through the now blood free lines leading into Drago's forearm.  
Which Aero figured the Dragon would be thanking it for come... His realization that he wasn't dead! Oh geez! Aero was gonna have to _tell_ him the happy news when he woke! Oh, wait. He was a pretty bright Dragon; he'd prolly figure it out on his own. Heh heh.

One last go over with the little extruder and all the medical accessories were packed away or stuck in the 'nasty stuff' receptacle and sent back up the chute. For cleaning or for bio hazard appropriate elimination. The thought of which got Aero wondering whether the scrap of wing mixed in there was flammable. Drago never caught himself on fire. Did that indicate that he was, or that his _scales_ were, fire retardant?  
Wicked!

Last and not least, Aero peeled off the funky second layer from his hands and marveled at just how sweaty medical gloves could make a person. Then, pruned skin not hindering his dexterity, he slipped the particle mask and flip up-flip down goggles off his head and shoved those in the chute behind everything else.

Job done, he took a moment to... push the unpleasant nature of what had been required of him to the back of his mind, and turned to check on his special, self chosen assignment.

He wasn't expecting what came next.

"Pesadilla… ¡Monstruo!" Drago was _awake_ , eyes transfixed, locked with Aero Star's, unblinking and steeped in more pure fear than the Space man knew what to think of. He'd never thought he'd see such an expression in the Dragon's face. Not after the near innumerable death defying stunts the winged scourge of the plains had attempted to teach him, nor the large prey he'd made Aero watch him take down.  
Not an _ounce_ of fear sent his way on any of the wild races through the most catastrophic terrains they'd been able to dig up. Not one drop. 

Except, perhaps that one time. Drago had invited the Space Cadette to spend a night in a _real_ house, with central heating, three walls, and an only fairly obstructed view of the midnight stars above.  
He couldn't have refused even if he wasn't worried their would be repercussions if he tried. Hehe.

Aero'd thought it had been his imagination, or sleep filled eyes playing a trick on him in the dim glow of a close approaching dawn, when he'd been woken by a… cut off screech, and -his training taking over-, he'd rolled into a crouch, chemical mace ready to help in the defense of his friend's cave home, only to find a Drago who looked like he'd barely managed to pull himself from sleep, staring wide -fearful?- eyes out the cave entrance.

"Sueño," had been all the explanation he wanted to give. So Aero laid himself back down right where the defensive roll had brought him, an inconspicuous distance closer to his gracious host, and incidentally between the 'danger' and the Dragon, and had accepted that as answer enough. Putting it to the back of his mind until such a time as the proud hunter might want to... share further. 

Now, he was no longer doubting what he had seen that night, during his first slumber party wherein skewered rat had been the main treat and 'who's rock makes the most pleasing dust shower when you throw it against _that_ wall?' the party game they'd played until it was past dark and definitely time for little Dragon's to be sleeping.  
Turned out some of the stones made sparks if you threw them hard enough, so the game had still been worthy after any crepusculic light had faded and the stars had come out in earnest.

The heart rate monitor was beeping, which only seemed to distress the infirmed further, and Aero couldn't think through the shock in his mind how to mute it. All he could process in that small stretch of time, was the deeply worrying terror written in every facet of his sick friend's face. 

What was the matter? Sure, it was all guess work when it came to a baseline for the frozen figure on the healing station, but Aero and the medical equipment had agreed that Drago's temperature had dropped below the 'this is a major concern' strata over two hours ago. Therefore, the likelihood that this was some fever induced hallucination taking him for a ride was not nearly as high as one would hope to assume.  
If not, this could be something just as, if not _more_ , troubling: Some sort of seizure or stroke, for example? but the machines would have pick- on second thought; they could have missed something like that. Considering the Dragon heritage and all.

"Drago, soy yo; Aero Sta-"

"Monstruo…" Accompanying that word was a supremely worrying of natural reflexes. Drago's weakened body, in the throws of his own fight or flight instinct, attempted for the first time in perhaps _days_ , to beat its wings. 

Aero couldn't believe he was thinking this, but he was thankful that the little Dragon was as sick and powerless as he was, for had he a modicum of his normal strength, his good wing would probably have pulled itself free of the largely space saving restraint, and the torn wing would absolutely have left the safety of the stabilizers keeping it in the 'calibrated' range of the skin mending acceleration field.  
As it was, the usually deadly flex and downbeat of his wings was reduced to little more than feeble twitchings, and the Dragon's eyes grew _wider_. A feat Aero Star had not considered possible.

"Ponerlo a dormir. Ahora," Aero Star whispered at the medical station as a whole, knowing _something_ had to be listening.

"¡Déjame ir!" He may have forgotten about Drago's extraordinary senses, which, even muddied through what must have been quite a drug induced fog, seemed better than any human's the Space man had witnessed.

"Shh, Drago. Todo esta bien. Solo toma una siesta y cuando te despiertes, estarás en casa." He wasn't sure whether those petrified eyes gave a twinkle of recognition, but either way; the Dragon's wings gave one more attempt at freedom, which amounted to about as much movement as a breath of air creates in the surface of a calm pond, and the last of the most recent medication hit his system. 

"Déjame... ir... Monstruo..." After that, it was only a matter of seconds before he'd go night-night.

For Aero Star, 'night-night' couldn't come soon enough. The fright directed seemingly at _him_ , the obvious pain and... His friend looked as if he were stuck in a nightmare, and that he thought Aero Star was the villain of said dream.

It was a relief he felt viscerally when those still chalky gray eyelids slid shut against their will, and a guilt that settled very near his heart at the feeling.  
He listened to Drago's breathing return to a rate not indicative of hyperventilation, and walked to the other side of the vessel, a couple dozen feet away, to sit on the edge of his bed. Head falling into his hands, hands slipping into his helmet hair and grabbing on for dear life.

Why had Drago reacted like that? Couldn't he _see_ that it was _Aero Star_ only a double arms length away?  
Yes, the surroundings were new and strange and yes, he was all but _strapped_ to an unfamiliar surface, but non of that explained why he'd looked at his _best friend_ as if he was detaining him for scientific experimentation!

His mind circled back around to the most important questions in this whole mess: Why hadn't Drago recognized him? Why did his best friend think he was a monster? Why-

His fingers supplied him the answer.

His helmet and visor were the only things aside from his mouth and jaw that Drago had ever seen of his face! 

Drago didn't recognize him because he wasn't wearing his mask! Or his gauntlets for that matter.  
But, why had the terrible lizard's mind jumped straight to 'monster'? What kind of monster could Drago have possibly encountered that looked like a... human? Oh. 

That'd explain why he took such care to steer clear of any signs of human settlement. Maybe the reason for him choosing such an unlikely, unforgiving place to call 'casa'. No humans would dare live all the way up and out there, where mountain goats would barely travel. Even if a voracious, skilled on the wing predator a few times their size _weren't_ circling above any given day.  
Those goats were smarter than a lot of sentients Aero'd met. Both Earth and Space side.  
Just because they had advanced technology, didn't necessarily mean all the folks were commensurately advanced. Just had really nice doodads.

'Ting', came a meek attempt at grabbing the Space Cadette's attention. He ground at his overly dry eyes with his palms, and without stopping that, walked the perpetually clear open space that was akin to a living room, over to the... blood synthesizer.  
Machine seemed to be pretty quiet overall, so it must have been something worth saying.

He pulled the bony part of a hand found right between a wrist and a palm _out_ of his eye sockets, and blinked until the display stopped being annoyingly illegible. Then he blinked a dozen more times, and rubbed at his eyes with the _back _of his hands, hoping to undo what horrible damage he must have inflicted on his poor, usually protected eyesight.  
For, whatever his eyes had shown him, could _not_ have been what was actually on that little screen, in funky green dot style letters.__

____

__

After all: What he _thought_ he'd seen was an impossibility! No naturally occurring, living, breathing creature on record had-

And that answered the next brightest burning question on Aero Star's mind: Why had Drago been so frightened, when generally, the most negative emotion he displayed was annoyance? **Deep** annoyance.

Because Drago, the last living Dragon, hadn't been 'born' a Dragon:  
He'd been grown in a lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh. Words fail me. This is just too much man!  
> ~Anonymous 
> 
> P.S. Next chapter will be up soon!


	9. Where Do Dragons Come From?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think people are entitled to some _answers_ after all that! Want some?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tread carefully, dear reader. Even Aero Star doesn't know what to expect next.

'This specimen-'

"Drago," he ground out between teeth that refused to unclench, trying not to be mad at his _computer_ for being so insensitive.

Several letters on the readout erased themselves, something Aero did not know it could do, even having known it as long as he had, and the sentence was given a new object.  
'This Drago is a successful splice between an ancient species known as Dragons...' The readout was taking a beat to process. Hm. He'd need to give the entire household system the okay for a full reboot after all they'd done today.   
'A relatively modern species known as Humans...' Looked almost as if the machine were giving _Aero_ a moment to process the information, which, though thoughtful, was unnecessary. He'd already guessed, _months_ ago, that Drago must be part human. Especially after he'd shown the capacity for humanoid modes of communication on top of his native Lizard.   
Only now he was learning the _how_ behind the mystery.  
'And-' Wait. There was an ' **and** '!?  
'the everlasting species known throughout the Cosmos as Titans.'

Aero's mouth went dry and he stumbled back from his trusted computer. 

"¿Por qué no me lo dijiste antes?" Not an accusation; just a question. It wouldn't take any offense.

'Redundant testing took as much processing power as the system had to spare over the efforts in the medical birthing section and the medical accesso-'

"Gracias. Para eso," he said, gesturing to his friend that he now knew was more closely related to _him_ than he was to any Dragon that had once walked the Earth.   
Well, he'd need to look over the DNA himself, but the computer had thrown up some percentages while it was at it, so he had an idea already.

'There is one more thing.' He saw on the readout when he finally glanced back to it. Rather caught up in strange thoughts. Distracted also by the knot his stomach was becoming.  
'This Drago's DNA...' It was double checking its information, 'and blood, both have serial numbers embedded in their building blocks. There is an attempt at a patent on record for this exact serial number some-' 

Aero looked away, shaken by what he'd read. A patent? _Serial numbers_?! What was- What had happened to his friend? His friend, the Dragon- the Dragon, Human, _Titan **hybrid**_ ... test tube baby.  
That would explain why some of the medication doses needed reevaluating. He wasn't what _anyone_ thought he was. Not even himself.

Was he going to tell him? Was that a good idea?   
Aero had some hard thinking -and ethics pondering- to do. He didn't want to keep things from Drago, especially not things concerning his mysterious coming into being, but he also didn't want to _hurt_ his best friend. His friend who probably thought he was a full fledged Dragon.

He looked up at the readout, on the off chance that it had an answer to his silent question.

'Would you like to see the file?'

"Sí."

 

Turned out: that particular patent seeker had been a scientist. And that particular scientist had been a Titan. That particular Titan had just so happened to have been the cause of death for the last full fledged Dragon on Earth. 

After years of keeping a safe distance and merely taking samples of dung, fallen scales, broken chunks of claw, and saliva scraped off of rock chew toys, the scientist had grown... bolder. 

Moving on to purposefully invading the Dragon's territory and baiting it into fights, wherein he'd win a nice sample of blood or a small chunk of still living tissue.   
As his studies and experiments advanced at accelerated rates, his thirst for the real deal strengthened, and his patience waned. Eventually; to the breaking point.

He took the Dragon down and hauled it back to his laboratory, where the last of its kind was dissected, examined -every finding recorded to the smallest deviation-, and eventually; his tireless work and dedication paid off.   
His experiment- his life's work, his _greatest **creation**_ , was complete.

It had been gestating in a synthetic womb for nearly two decades, slowly but surely accepting the new strings of coding and DNA he'd fed it.   
It was the strongest of all his menagerie: every other specimen of his flock having expired due to him not having enough raw data and firsthand knowledge to get their sequencing _just_... so.  
This beautiful, _magnificent_ , **hybrid** was going to change the way the civilized people of the Cosmos viewed... just about everything.

From their own existences to the ethics of creating their own futures.  
After all, if one could hybridize a superior species to their own, couldn't they in theory apply such alterations to themselves?   
With a century or so of diligent practical experimentation, the Cosmos could be crawling with Titan hybrids of all mock ups! All sizes! For all purposes! 

Dragon-Titan hybrids, like the one he was finally ready to allow its first breaths of air. The computers would be running and recording the entire process.   
The initial breath, the lung's reaction to Earth's atmosphere, and any abnormalities. If there was need for artificial respiration or even intubation, he needed to know _before_ there was even the smallest _**chance**_ of brain damage.  
This was the culmination of a life long obsession. Nothing could be left to chance.

So before the tiny Titan-Dragon hybrid had even opened its eyes, it was restrained, it's wings pulled as wide as they'd go and strapped against the table for inspection. The umbilical left intact as a convenient way to feed the thing and administer any drugs, as necessary. Just for a month or two. 

The thing was small, and because of the unfortunate addition of Human DNA as part of its base coding, it couldn't be expected to grow near large as he'd've wished. But the scientist admitted to himself that the accelerated growth had been a worthy trade off.  
With the specimen already nearing the size of a stunted toddler, his studies would soon be ready for submission to the Cosmic Scientific community at large.

Besides. It was illegal to experiment on Titan embryos and therefor; _extremely_ difficult to get one's hands on any. Let alone enough to undertake scientific advancements on the scale and of the _kind_ he had been determined to. 

After two months of rigorous tests and the exact same diet it had been fed while growing inside its comfy womb, the computers informed the scientist that they'd gathered all the samples and data they could at this stage.  
It was time to let the thing _move_.

Time to record its first bite of food. To record and watch the progress the nano camera embedded in the nutritionally perfect slop made down the absolute _masterpiece_ of a throat. Down to the stomach and through the alimentary canal.   
Then to carefully examine the stool for biochemical changes and anomalies.

The creature was healthy. And resilient. It could go _days_ with only water before the privation started to take any major effect on its system. At such a young age: it was exactly what he'd been hoping for.  
Imagining this sort of modification made to a whole blooded Titan brought his mind to a place of pure bliss. With that kind of power, there would be no place they could not explore. No species they need fear. And no need for funerals.

With this creature's blood, the Titans at the bleeding edge of modern medical sciences would eventually hold the key to curing or immunizing against every disease and immunodeficiency in Space. In the Cosmos. No more unnecessary death...

What he'd once viewed as a pipe dream was growing before his eyes into a reality.   
Short Earth year by year, it's teeth grew harder and wickeder, its wings required stronger bonds to keep it from attempting flight outside of the observation room, and its diet widened to include live mammals.  
By the time it grew strong enough to resist having blood samples taken, it was switched from a tether to being sequestered to a cage. A cage which it obviously resented, gnawing at the bars as it did, and which grew and shrank as the occasion required.

Feeding time? The cage grew three feet in height and allowed the Dragon room to 'catch' its half dead prey.  
Time for a biopsy or a fresh blood or lymphocytic sample? The cage shrank until there wasn't enough room for the shrieking creature to wriggle away from the probe.

The scientist eventually applied for a patent, submitting just enough raw information that whoever was on the other end of the process would have no _way_ of understanding what they were looking at, but would know that it was indeed... unique.

That piece of avarice had been his downfall.   
The patent office had reported it to the Scientific Commision, who had reported what appeared to be scientific experimentation on Titan DNA to the proper Cosmic authorities, who had in turn dispatched a double squad of Patrollers to bring in the deviant who'd dared to toy with nature.

How had it gone on unnoticed _this long_? Didn't they have a regular patrol set up on... what was the name of that planet? Earth? How had that lone scientist managed so much unethical- no more useless questions.   
He would answer for his crimes and he would live out his sentence as the supreme judicial command saw fit.

 

The power went out. **All** power went out. Even his backup generators were unresponsive, no matter how he jiggled the switches and knobs that sometimes caught just a little.   
Then the sound of Space vehicles sweeping overhead and coming in for landings filtered through the armored roof and the scientist knew he was done.   
The game was over.   
His life's work would be stolen from him and likely too, would be his life. If they'd figured out what he was up to well enough to think they needed to intervene, then they thought intervention was necessary. Which meant that the Cosmos was not yet ready for his brand of genius.

In his mad race to evacuate a largely automated laboratory who's power was offline, he forgot that the generators and stabilizers running and drawing power from his lab's nuclear core would need immediate attention.  
The crude method of harvesting nearly limitless power had a small catch: Instability.

An explosion, just a small one, took out the majority of the basement levels of the complex, causing the ground floor to split in two and cave in on itself.  
In all the confusion, the scientist ended up with wounds so extensive that he perished before the now rescue team of Cosmic patrollers had a chance to confirm it was indeed him.

They got it confirmed. 

The lab- the entire complex and an approximate mile in circumference beyond was ordered quarantined. All surviving data logs and charred remains of grotesque, unrecognizable experiments were confiscated and transported to the holding halls of Cosmic Command.   
Even the surviving data logs were largely unreadable. Either heavily, _convolutedly_ encrypted or set to self destruct in the event of their acquisition by unauthorized hands.

What the patrol could not possibly have known, even after viewing what _could_ be salvaged of the wreckage, was that the experiments they collected had all been dead and put on display in handmade stasis fields for years. Some for multiple Earth decades.

In fact, the only specimen that had still been viable when they'd broken Earth's atmosphere, warrants in hand, had crawled from the wreckage and slipped right out from under their noses. Hobbling on legs allowed just enough use over the long years of scientific captivity that he knew how to use them, and gliding on wings he'd barely managed to unbind with the help of his purposefully blunted claws, just fast enough that when the quarantine came down, he was ten feet beyond.   
And free at last.

Free to take in the non-synthesized light of day for the first time in his life. Free to roam seemingly endless grasslands and semi-jungles until he found the leftovers of a freshly killed meaty creature.   
Used to being provided already dead food as well as non dead, he ate until he was full and continued on his way. Stronger out in the open, wild landscape, a full belly under his sunbathed scales, than he'd yet felt in all the years since he'd first set eyes on that... Monstruo wh-who'd... who'd kept him in a cage.   
The Monster who'd done painful things to him- who'd never listened when he'd called out in distress- who'd let his robots do whatever they would to him. Including bending things until they creaked, just to test the 'tensile strength' of his bones.

 

The marks left behind by things including exploratory surgeries, faded. The tiny Dragon's memories of his embryonic to nearly grown toddler years also faded. Nearly as well as the old scars.

Eventually, there was no more peering into and around bright lights to check for the monster who'd once lurked around the edges.   
The fear of enclosed spaces too vanished, as he lost and regrew the first of his teeth and found a roomy cave to call home.

Before he reached his full height and weight, he had completely forgotten, whether on purpose or by blessed providence, the reason for his occasional nightmare. The kind that prevented him from sleeping the rest of the night through. The biggest factor in his night sight being as keen as it was.

He didn't know where he'd come from, nor what he might qualify as; seeing as there existed no other creature that resembled him.

He learned how far he could travel before bumping into things that clawed at his psyche with their scent, so similar to something he'd only ever smelled in nightmares. The sound of them setting his teeth on edge, making his head pulse at the reminder of... No. That was all- dreams didn't mean anything.

He stayed clear all the same and his reasons for doing so became harder and harder to even grasp at. He just _stayed clear_.

 

Long before Aero Star had dropped from the sky, the Dragon had been living a largely carefree life. Enjoying free dominion over his mountain range and his plains and forests. An overall, well adjusted hyper carnivore, he wanted for little and generally got what he wanted.

Until he got something he _hadn't_ wanted. Hadn't _known_ he'd wanted.   
A friend.   
A friend who could fly and watch him hunt and share food and joke around and who he looked forward to seeing whenever he could stop by.

Someone he... cared about.

 

Aero Star had no way of knowing the majority of the true story.   
Most of what the file had to say was what the first hand responders had seen and recorded in their logs. The patent attempt and the serial numbers were included and so were a few data cores of scientific findings, but very little that referenced anything _near_ what those serial numbers still lived inside of to that day.

Aero Star rocked back in his chair, eyes and mind numbed by what they'd taken in and all they'd extrapolated from it. 

This was more complicated than he'd thought possible. So many different paths to take forward from where he found himself, slumped and tired; the soft sleep sounds of a convalescing Drago keeping him grounded.

The computer reminded him that the medication would most likely only be in effect for another half hour or so, and that a familiar environment would be far more pleasant a place for a wild... Drago to wake than a place which he ostensibly feared.

Aero gave the display a little pat, told his house to go through a thorough reboot, and bundled up his friend as gently as he could for a smooth ride back to the dubious comfort of his cave home.  
A very strange stabilizing stick on bandage, designed by his Medical Accessories chute, affixed to the still mending wing webbing graft.

Aero set a sleeping Drago against his favorite wall and took up beside him, not quite touching, but close enough to catch him if he threatened to tumble over.

He spent the next half hour wrestling with the decision; whether to tell the Dragon the truth of his beginnings, or forever hold his tongue.  
Come to think of it... he was gonna have to decide whether to tell Drago _his_ background as well! The guy clearly had no idea he was basically the equivalent of a human! 

"Ae... ro?" He'd never thought it would feel so good to hear that voice!  
Weak and confused as it was, it was the voice of his best friend. The friend he'd nearly lost, over some stupid arrow and a _stupid_ decision to visit after 'a few more days'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back together at last! Now they can be happy for the rest of their lives!


End file.
